


Flowers, Steel, Soil

by KeshaRocks



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29264511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeshaRocks/pseuds/KeshaRocks
Summary: Ren Addler inherits her grandfather’s land after his passing, ready to drop everything in her suburban life to welcome a new one in the quiet country. With her three friends coming along to help her settle in, the group are charmed by the quiet little town that is Stardew Valley. But this little town holds more than its rustic appearance leads on.
Relationships: Abigail/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Alex/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Elliott/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Haley/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Harvey/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Sebastian/Female Player (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20





	1. Nightfall

Her grandfather was always so stubborn.

He rarely ever asked for help, he refused to be subjected to a nursing home.

But he had good reason. The man lived his life by his rules, his way; even after the years of labor and living soon caught up to him. Even with his back hunched with the weight of his years, and his skin speckled with freckles and liver spots, the built-up callus still remains. His grip as strong as if he were back in his mid-twenties.

As she runs her fingers over the back of her grandfather’s bony knuckles, the skin surprisingly soft, she only feels envy.

He outlived the estimate the doctors gave him, by a longshot. And managed to keep his house, his freedoms, and his independence in the process.

Cancer is a bitch, but her grandfather still managed to give it, and the doubting doctors a middle finger once he lived past their estimate of two years.

Grief does exist, yes, but not here. Not yet. Her grandfather refused to let it, and reminded her of these same things to prove it.

His fingers tighten around her hand in a reassuring grip. She lifts his hand to her lips, savoring the feeling of the skin and trying to ignore the tingle at the base of her spine every time her eyes flick to his right, where the needles and tubes of the IV and other hospital machinery drip and beep and hum.

The room is small, a wide window occupying the back wall while the bed and its machinery occupied the right hand side, a wardrobe, a couple of chairs, and the bathroom settled along the left. The drapes have been drawn, the silvery moonlight looking veiled as it seeps through. The only light on now being the one right above the bed. Set for reading, perhaps.

She was the last to visit him, as per his orders. “ _Wanted to get all the legal bullshit out of the way, so we wouldn’t have any interruptions_.”

Wave off the money-hungry relatives, spare the ones who actually care some words and time and some hugs. While still being of sound mind and body, he was able to double check with his lawyer – who genuinely seemed to care about him, bless her heart – that his will is as he wants it. She herself nearly ground her teeth to dust when she heard a couple of her aunts whispering among the crowd that was their family in the hall about who will get what.

Almost everyone in the family had their eyes on that farm grandpa had purchased all those years ago. A farm he tended to for years; a place she has many memories of, if a big fogged now. Some members already have their own ideas of what to do with the plot of land – a few acres are apparently big enough to start a business in – of fashion design, or antique selling, or developing a new app for phones; to build a hotel or whatever else her family had in mind for that land.

She couldn’t help it. Tears welled in her eyes.

“I did what I could child,” her grandfather coos as his hand moves to wipe the one tear that escaped, trailing down her cheek. “And I did it pretty damn well.”

She sniffs, using her hand to wipe the other eye. “I still can’t seem to see who the winner is.”

“Well, I don’t mean to brag, but . . .” he chuckles. His eyes – though the color of slate grey, able to appear as cold as stone – brew with a warmth she knew is only spared for her and a few other grandchildren.

She follows, but folds her lips in. “But you’re being taken from me.”

Her. Not her family. _Her_.

They’ve always been closest. He was a natural child whisperer when they were little, but as everyone got older, the world of smartphones and computers meant less visits and more phone calls.

She tried her best, having gone away to college – weekly calls over webcam when her time could afford it between homework and work.

“I’ll always be with you, my dear.” Another reassuring squeeze. “Always. Which reminds me . . . Here.”

Her grandfather reaches over to the mobile tray set across the bed. He pulls it close and lifts the plastic plate of what was his dinner. From beneath she can see him pull out an envelope.

Her heart skips a beat. If he put it there, out of plain sight, it must be for a reason. Her mind immediately begins to reel, wondering what it is that he seemingly didn’t mention, didn’t talk about when speaking with the family and the lawyer.

He immediately waves his hand, “Don’t get any ideas, sweetheart. It’s nothing out of contract. Everything is settled, and she knows about this too. This is just something personal from me, to you; my very special granddaughter.”

Taking the envelope, she eyes her grandfather wearily. The paper feels thicker than normal. More like parchment, and the purple wave holding her grandfather’s initials sits at the tip of the fold. She jabs her thumb beneath the fold, ready to tear –

“No, no, don’t open it yet . . . have patience.” She immediately removes her thumb, stiffened with confusion. “Now, listen close . . .” Her grandfather reaches for her and she scoots closer until his hand holds her forearm, the other taking hers that holds the envelope. “There will come a day when you feel crushed by the burdens of modern life . . . and your bright spirit will fade before a growing emptiness. When that happens, my dear, you’ll be ready for this gift.”

“What is it?” she asks.

“Have patience,” he repeats. “It’s special. For you. Keep it; until you’re ready my dear.”

He kisses the back of her hand, patting it twice before he nods. More tears well in her eyes, and she does her best to blink them back. She returns his gesture, pressing those knuckled fingers to her forehead. “I love you, grandpa.”

“I love you too, my dear.” His thumb wipes away a tear on her left cheek. “Don’t cry.” He pats her shoulder. “Go on now, let grandpa rest.”

As if on cue, there’s a tentative knock at the door, and a nurse walks in, a stethoscope around her neck, and a thin clipboard clutched in her arm. “Hi. Visiting hours are over now.” She says in a gentle tone, not wanting to intrude on a delicate moment, but also doesn’t want her to be left behind. “Your family is waiting for you out in the hall.”

A stiff nod. She turns back to her grandfather.

He gives a wink.

She forces a smile as she stands from her seat, her butt having started to fall asleep. She spares another kiss on his forehead, his thumb rubbing across the back of her hand.

As she begins to walk away from the bed, her grandfather’s hand slowly begins to slip from her grip.

She felt everything – from his fingertips wrapped around her wrist, to them sliding along her palm, wrapping around her fingers, and slowly dragging until they slipped from her grip.

She tucks the envelope into her backpack, doing her best to hide it between her folders and notebooks.

As she heads towards the gentle-faced nurse, she doesn’t look back.

But as she steps into the hall, she hears her grandfather begin to hum.


	2. PART I: The City: Chapter 1

_Five years later_ . . .

* * *

Ren carefully steps around a mound of ancient looking tomes gathered near the door. She moves between two shelves and thinks about calling out, but for some reason, she can’t bring herself to break the dead silence.

Her gaze passes up and over the marked spines of countless books, every item categorized by its own number and date, making her feel as though she is walking through catacombs rather than a museum’s archives.

Inside, the musty air holds an antique thickness, and the scent of dust and aging books combine to make breathing a chore. The back room stretches before her long and narrow, lined with rows of tall, sturdy bookshelves that almost reach the ceiling.

Overhead, the tired lights burn a dull gold, adding little relief to the accumulated shadows. When she reaches the end, she peers around the shelf to see a counter. Well, really, she sees a lot of books piled on top of something that _used_ to be a counter.

Ghosting her fingers along the metal shelving, she comes to an old logbook squished at the very end. Its old parchment and leather binding showed it was probably from the mid-18th century. Pulling it off the shelf, she blows on the cover, stirring up a cloud of dust.

The thing is heavy and thick. The cover has long been worn away and all that’s left are faint gold etchings. Its yellow pages are crisp and wrinkled, popping and cracking as she breezes through them with her thumb.

They fan quite easily, as though the pages spend more time being pinned apart than clumped together. Its spine makes a soft creaking noise as she pulls it open. Sheets of folded paper fall out to the floor, puddling at her feet. Gathering them up, Ren carefully places them back in the book before returning it to its rightful place.

The sound of movement has her flinching to the left. Even though no one but staff is allowed back here – this particular archive is _only_ assessable by employee ID – the close quarters and particular eeriness still tingles her nerves.

Rounding the corner of the bookshelf, Ren breathes a sigh of relief when she finds Mr. Williams sitting at one of the small oak tables, doubled over an ancient looking piece of parchment. Her original reason for even coming back here.

Here in this section, the old black-wire shelving gives way to sleek metal cabinets and green carpeting; computers and bright fluorescent lighting make her feel as though she’s witnessing a divide between the ancient and the modern.

“Mr. Williams.” She calls as she approaches, flipping a gathering of her wine-red hair over her shoulder, hoping its length will cover up the still-healing tattoo hidden beneath the high collar of her shirt.

Damian, as he once told her to call him – to which she refused – looks up from the paper and gives a smile. “Ah, Ren. How can I help you?”

“That junior high class is here to see you. They’re waiting out in the lobby.”

“Ah, good,” he says as he stands from his chair, deftly gathering some papers, but leaving the ancient parchment as he joins her.

She doesn’t bother to say anything. He’s the head of the department, and technically a “teacher” of the students who come to the museum to learn about anthropology. If he thinks the parchment is fine out in the open, then so be it.

“And I’ve told you to call me Damian.” He whispers in her ear as he straightens his tie.

She ignores the chill that runs down her spine. “And I’ve told _you_ I prefer not to.”

“Why?” he chuckles. “Because I’m _two years_ older than you? How scandalous!”

“Because you are my boss. And perhaps I miss my academic life, but calling you Mr. Williams seems more appropriate.” She spares a flash of a smile over her shoulder as he follows her out of the archives.

Damian has asked her out several times before; to which she continually declined. The man took it in stride, and it never seemed to deter him. It might be her own fault with their casual flirting, and to that she’s been trying to draw a line between them. Starting by calling him by his formal title. He’s withdrawn from asking her out up front, reducing to nonchalant questions about joining him for coffee or lunch, but she still has no intention of encouraging him.

He is a good man, just not for her.

“Makes me feel older, is what it does.” He mumbles.

She spares a chuckle as she finally exists the archives and into the high-ceilinged, marble-tiled lobby of the museum. She fiddles with her hair, making sure her white silk blouse remains tucked into her black dress pants, the clicking of her sling-back heels amplified by the acoustics of the spacious chamber.

The students have huddled by the stegosaurus display, the teachers calling out names to divide into different colored groups. Mr. Williams approaches with clapping hands, acting like some kind of hype man as the students’ heads turn to him.

Ren resumes her place at the wide green and gold receptionist desk, the light reflecting off of the large gold lettering stretching across the front reading, INFORMATION. With the little wall at the front of the desk – created by cubbyholes and computer monitors – she settles into her own little space, getting back to her paperwork regarding a couple who want to rent the museum out for their wedding reception. 

She pulls up the different themes the museum provides, though her mind immediately starts to wander. By some relief, she feels her phone buzz in her back pocket. Pulling it out, the taps the screen with her thumb and sees a text from Mani. She narrows her eyes on the pink heart emoji she put next to her friend’s name; her telltale sign of who’s texting.

She’s assigned a single, different emoji for her little group of friends. Each a well representation of their personality – if she does say so herself.

Danika is like wildfire – her rainbow-haired friend loud and proud and unwilling to take shit from anybody. The fire emoji suits her well.

Susy has her own moments, but still more reserved when on her own. When the two of them are together . . . Ren always knew where they were in a room, at least.

Both she met through a previous job and kept in contact with them through social media. Ren slides her thumb across the screen to open her phone, and Mani’s message pops up: _Plan on ordering from our favorite pizza place for dinner tonight. When will you be home? :3_

Ren ponders and writes, _I’m off work at five, but likely won’t be home until six with the train times._

Mani begins replying. Then the bubble pauses. Then starts again. _Okay, text me when you’re on the train and I’ll order_.

Ren types, _Can’t we have something else for dinner? We’ve had pizza for three nights now. And that’s not even including the leftovers_!

_Look we’ve both been working lately, and we’re both too lazy to cook anything, so just accept that we’re failure as women and enjoy the god-dammed cheesy-bread-goodness! DX_

Ren giggles as she can practically hear her friend’s exaggerated snipe.

Mani is as bubbly and as spritely as a glitter ball. They’ve been friends since elementary school, going their separate ways when each went off to college, but still maintained contact. Once they both graduated, the two met up again one day and arranged plans to live together.

Well, more like Mani needed a place to stay once she graduated. Ren had already settled into an apartment that had a spare room she planned to convert into a writing room, but when Mani called saying she needed a place, Ren couldn’t say yes fast enough.

Living on her own – even for the short span of a few months – felt nerve wrecking; even when Ren did everything recommended by her family: she didn’t get an apartment on the first floor, she made sure to check that the building had security, both person and camera, and had a smart entry system that only allowed tenants. Ren had gotten into a fidgeting habit of rubbing her thumb along the small piece of purple plastic.

Plus, she and Mani had talked about living together plenty before they even got into college. And with Mani’s major being in film with a minor in animation, the job hunt for her was less than profitable. She’d take any freelance job that was in her area, other than that she was working at video game store for typical retail wage.

Ren’s degree in agriculture with a minor in history managed to snag her a job at her childhood museum. Though unlike Mr. Williams, she works at the desk as a receptionist. She didn’t mind though, most of the time she just sits, answering the occasional phone call and submitting paperwork. It came with benefits and insurance, though having the security camera directly over her head was a little unnerving. It felt like a guillotine ready to chop her head off if whoever was watching caught her slacking on the job. Still, it beats the hell out of retail.

It was a weird change to get used to. She’s been so used to the routine of going to school and work, that even when she finally had the degree in her hand, it still didn’t really click until her first week off. She’d been lucky enough to secure a job at the museum through a former classmate, and despite her usual demeanor, she couldn’t help but give a middle finger to one of the less favorable managers as she strutted out the doors of her former job.

Checking the time on the computer monitor, she’s actually due for her lunch break. Grabbing the walkie just to the left, Ren announces she’s going on her break. After getting the muffled confirmation, she reaches under the desk and grabs her small grey backpack that acts as her purse.

Her sister had gotten it for her a few Christmases ago when she’d learned Ren would be working in the city. It’s different from a typical school backpack: its design more luxury looking with the sleek grey pleather, and much smaller in size. Its most notable feature being the zippers are actually set in the back. An anti-theft feature to help protect her belongings.

Slinging it over her shoulders, Ren fiddles with her hair again as she snatches up her cardigan and makes a beeline for the font entrance. She pulls out her phone, ready to call Mani, ignoring the looks of awe from some of the junior high boys.

Her fiery auburn hair is already enough of a dead giveaway, the color revealing an orange sheen in the sunlight. But the one thing that she’s noticed – and come to tolerate – is how quickly people’s attention goes to her eyes.

Colored in pure sunshine gold, it’s the one thing that always had people wondering if she’s truly human.

She explained many a times now how it was actually an allergic reaction to some eye-drop medicine. Allergy season was kicking her ass and her eyes wouldn’t stop itching and watering, so she put a couple of eye drops in and woke up the next day feeling fine . . . only to find that they had turned a gold-ish color.

She could see everything just fine, nothing was wrong, and the doctor said that it was possibly a reaction to one of the chemicals in the eye drops. As long as she could still see, there was no cause for alarm. They assumed it would go away after a couple of years, but it never did.

As a kid she didn’t really care, in fact, she even reveled in the wide-eyed stares. But as she got to junior high and high school, with her body changing and hormone imbalances and all, she briefly hated it for a while; even debating on wearing sunglasses since everyone kept staring and ogling and asking if she was a vampire or if they were contacts, blah, blah, blah.

She shoves her way through the revolving door and out onto the busy street, people mingling about much like her, seeking out the nearest food joint to enjoy a semblance of their thirty-minute lunch break. The combination of spring’s chill and the sun’s warmth create an aggravating combination, leaving some shivering or sweating with their indecisive attire.

Ren huddles into herself, wedging her phone between her ear and shoulder as she clasps two buttons of her cardigan closed. Mani answers after the third ring: “Hello?” she chirps with a drawl.

“Look if we’re going to do this, at least order me one of their alfredo pasta dishes. I can’t stand pizza anymore.” She says by way of greeting.

“Pizza has been nothing but good to us!” Mani’s merry voice fills her ear.

“Not too good for our health.” Ren mumbles as she turns the corner, her eyes scanning for her favorite Chinese place. By now she’s stopped in so many times during her break that the employees know her by name now.

“It’s comfort food. And with the recent amount of stress that I’ve been dealing with, it helps me cope!”

Ren is about to ask what stress she can endure while working at a video game store, when suddenly the sound of clashing swords and grunting men reach her ear from the background. Ren then nods her head in understanding, a small chuckle breaking past her lips.

She recognizes those sounds from one of their favorite games – the very thing that started the path of their friendship – and right now it sounds like she’s dealing with a boss fight.

A very frustrating and overpowered boss.

“ _God dammit_!” Mani screams over the phone. “I hate this man! I hate him!”

At the sound of what might’ve been a controller slapping into the carpet, Ren laughs as she pushes her way through the door to the Chinese place. The place is slow at the moment, Ren usually arriving before the initial lunch rush.

Immediately one of the cooks spots her amid the few stragglers, nodding to her in greeting with a brief wave. Ren spares a wave as she meanders over to the counter holding the soda machines and napkins and utensils. With another nod, he immediately begins her usual order while the others finish working through the small line.

“Fine. I’ll make an exception. But tomorrow let’s try something else, or at least come shopping with me so we have something fresh in the fridge.”

“Ugh, but that’s so much _woooooork_.” Mani whines, immediately following it with a giggle. “I’m kidding, yeah we can go tomorrow. We need more of those chocolate cupcake snacks anyway.”

Ren’s phone suddenly buzzes and she pulls it away from her ear to see who’s calling. Her brows lift and she quickly says to Mani, “Hey, let me call you back.”

“Okay! Oh, god – _NO_!”

Ren quickly hangs up and accepts the other call as she makes her way towards the front counter. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, honey. How are you?” Her mother’s sweet voice greets her, drawing a smile from Ren as she pulls out her wallet.

“I’m okay, just grabbing some lunch.” Ren give an apologetic smile, her brows furrowing as she hands the man her debit card. He waves her off with a shake of his head and a friendly smile. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

“Well, work is a pain in the ass but what else is new?” her mother laughs. Her tone suddenly shifts, and all too quickly Ren knows the reason behind this call before her mother even says, “I just wanted to call and make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Managed to go the whole day without thinking about it until you called.” Ren says a bit too bitterly. It comes out sharper than she intended, her poor attempt at humor.

Only in recent years has her grandfather’s passing stung less than before. She took his passing the hardest next to her mom. She’d been the closest to their grandfather, spending almost every summer at that farm since she could walk. Even in college she would video call him when she could break away from her studies. And her being away certainly didn’t stop him from sending out gifts during every holiday that applied. He even sent something out to her on Hanukkah, just because it was a holiday, and it gave him an excuse to.

For the first couple of years after his passing, the anniversary of his death had been heavy for her; rarely leaving her room for the day. Her parents would bring her food and water; memories of her mother petting her head while Ren lied in her bed with her tear-stained pillow.

A light had gone out in her. A light had been extinguished that night.

The cashier hands her back her card with a slight bow, Ren mouthing her thanks before meandering off to the side to collect her order. The head chef gives her a similar head bow as he pushes the styrofoam container towards her. Ren gives her own nod of thanks before adjusting the phone between her shoulder and ear and slinging her backpack between her shoulders.

“Sorry,” she mutters. “It was supposed to be a joke.”

“It’s alright sweetie. I know it still . . . affects you, even after all these years. Have you looked at the letter at all?”

Ren shoves her way through the glass door and back out onto the bustling sidewalk. The city’s car horns and array of voices blaring in her other ear. “No. And I haven’t tried recently. Grandpa said I would know when the time came to read it. And it doesn’t feel like it yet.”

Her mother gives a soft chuckle. “Yeah, that sounds like my father. Well, I’d hate to be a burden, but . . . you aunt called again today.”

Ren’s teeth immediately grit, her gait becoming heavy, her speed increased. “When doesn’t she nowadays?” she nearly growls.

“Of course, I let it go to voicemail. The woman sounds as sincere as a snake.”

“Why haven’t you just called back and tell her fuck off?”

“You don’t think I’ve tried? At least, not in that manor. But the woman is persistent. One of her redeeming qualities . . . that and her cheekbones. But what else can you expect from a Harvard Grad entrepreneur such as herself? Woman’s blabbered on about it so many times.”

This perks up a corner of Ren’s mouth as the behemoth building that is the museum comes up on her right. “I can’t wait to see my answering machine when I get home.”

Her Aunt Julia gives new meaning to the words: snake, coldhearted, spoiled, and fake. She’s the kind of person one would see strutting down the expensive shopping district with one arm full of designer brand shopping bags, the other holding the pink bedazzled leash of a little toy poodle.

Ren hasn’t liked her much since the beginning, even more so when she would constantly brag about her daughters and their successes in school at family parties. It’s a miracle her cousins turned out as decent as they did, and she loves them as much as her other extended family.

But Ren hasn’t bothered to give her aunt the time of day since that night at the hospital five years ago. When she overheard her talking with her other aunt about what she’ll do with the farm property once she gets the deed.

Already assuming she’ll get its custody before her grandfather had even taken his final breath. Just because she’s the eldest daughter. Because she and her daughters are _so_ successful.

She’s since blocked her aunt on all social media and in her contacts. Her aunt was near restless during the will reading, and even more so when there was no mention of the farm, it’s papers, and who her grandfather transferred its ownership to. Once she found out that Ren was the last person to see and speak to him, her constant pestering hasn’t slowed for the last two years.

The styrofoam squeaks as Ren’s nails dig into the sides.

The forty-five ignored calls from her, all in the first few days following her grandfather’s passing. The twenty-one voicemails. The first had been as sweet as her aunt could probably manage, left in the hours afterward.

And then the messages began to have a tone of impatience.

And then, by the end, that last voicemail from her aunt, nothing but simmering annoyance.

Ren never wrote back. Instead, she does her best to avoid her at family parties, if her busying career ever granted her the time to visit. If she ever deigned to visit at all – her social media flooded with pictures in foreign places, different food, stunning cultural architecture.

Thankfully, most of her mother’s side is aware of her aunt’s leering eyes, so Ren never has to worry about being alone in a room with her. Her other aunts and uncles and cousins practically surround her like a wolf pack.

Though a piece of her heart does feel bad about the divide between created between the siblings, she’s ever grateful for their understanding. She still remembers the wood-rattling argument her one uncle had with Aunt Julia, sending her stomping out of the party with poorly produced tears.

No one bothered to go after her – not even her daughters.

“I am curious, sweetie.” Ren pushes the handicap button with her hip, stepping back as the glass door opens itself for her. “Have you looked for the deed to that farm?”

“No, and I don’t have a reason to, or the want. If grandpa wanted it to be secret, then fine. It’s no skin off my nose. And if Aunt Julia had any decency as a human being, she would understand that. But I guess that’s too much to ask.”

Her mother gives a heavy sigh. One that says she wants to discipline her daughter for speaking about family like that but is also laced with understanding that Ren hasn’t actually acknowledged her aunt as family since that night at the hospital.

The envelope her grandfather gave her still sits in the top drawer of her nightstand, hidden beneath a few books and a few more meaningless papers. And Ren made it into a habit of checking the drawer every night to make sure it’s still there – her paranoia making her wonder if her aunt would go as low as to sneak into their apartment and try to steal it.

“Well, as long as you’re okay. Or the best you can be.”

She finally makes it back to her desk, her lower back already slick with sweat beneath her cardigan. “It’s been easier for some time, don’t worry.”

The little photo of her grandfather she carried in her wallet helped.

“Alright, well I have a meeting at one, but text me when you’re home safe, okay?”

“I will. Love you, mom.”

“Love you too, sweetie.”

Ren taps the screen and opens up her meal before slipping her phone into her back pocket. Thankfully, the chef at the restaurant left her a fork in her container of shrimp fried rice, but Ren could only manage a few scoops before resorting to just poking the little pink shellfish around its sea of brown rice and egg scraps.

Dealing with her aunt has been nothing short of draining, and every year until now, it nearly crumpled Ren to hear the phone ring, fearing it was her. The woman didn’t even have the decency to leave her alone on the anniversary of his passing. Like her uncle, her father gave Aunt Julia an earful one year, his words reverberating through the foundation of their home.

 _There will come a day when you feel crushed by the burdens of modern life . . . and your bright spirit will fade before a growing emptiness. When that happens, my dear, you’ll be ready for this gift_.

When she wasn’t buried with grief, her mind did conjure up a semblance of curiosity. She tried thinking of what it would be; most common answer being a check with some amount of money written on it. But she didn’t give it much thought beyond that. If it is money, she’ll put it towards her school loans. Next to the usual bills of her apartment, it’s the biggest weight on her shoulders.

Most of the family had their own curiosities when grandpa’s lawyer didn’t mention anything about the farm; most chalked it up to him simply forgetting to put it in the will, despite the confirmation of “being of sound mind and body.” Unlike Aunt Julia, most simply forgot about it, barely giving it a second thought.

Ren doesn’t care. If her grandfather wanted it to be kept secret, then fine. Though, a part of her did miss the farm, yet she barely remembers what it looked like. Her clearest memory is sitting on the front porch with her grandfather, rocking gently on the porch swing as fireflies danced around the open front yard that seemed to stretch for miles.

Ren pops a shrimp in her mouth, her eyes darting to the clock in the lower corner of her computer monitor. Her break will be over in five minutes. Looking down, there’s no way she can finish her rice in time. She’ll have to sacrifice those minutes into putting it in the staff fridge.

With a deep sigh, she leaves her seat and meanders her way over to the cafeteria – aiming for the swinging kitchen doors tucked into the corner, out of sight for guests.

She feels her phone vibrate in her pocket – over before she can even reach her hand down. As she nods to the fellow chefs and workers, she finds her designated fridge. When making her way back to the desk, she fishes out her phone to see who tried to call.

Her nearly trips on her own feet, her free hand gripping the corner of the desk.

All the notification banner states is: Blocked Caller.

Ren only snarls before tucking her phone back into her pocket, leaving the call unanswered.


	3. Chapter 2

Ren expected the pizza to be at the apartment by now, confirmed by the wafting smell of cheese and pepperoni that greeted her.

But what she didn’t expect to hear was the roaring laughter that met her when she stepped off the elevator – as well as the squeaks of amusement. Both continued as she walked her way down to her door, the last one on the right, during which time Ren grumbles to herself about her plans for a quiet evening on the couch being ruined.

Quietly chanting a string of curses that would make her father proud, Ren unlocks the white painted wooden door to the apartment, preparing for the onslaught of bone-crushing hugs and pecks on the cheek and general noisiness in all matters of her life. And that was just Mani.

Ren knew what her friend was trying to do by inviting Susy and Danika over – apart from the fact that they live right across the hall – and a content smile pulls her lips up as she steps inside.

“God dammit!” Mani shouts, quickly followed by muffled crying as she stuffs her face into one of the couch cushions.

“Well, that’s always comforting to come home to.” Ren says to no on in particular, chucking her keys into the lopsided ceramic bowl Danika had half-assed during an elective pottery course in college.

Susy – who had been eating half the pizza before any of them could get a second bite – drops a half-finished slice onto her paper plate before quickly wiping her hands and scurrying over to Ren. “Welcome home!” she croons.

She welcomes her friend’s arms that wrap around her shoulders, the rocking from side to side as Susy’s ponytail tickles her nose.

“Hi Ren.” Mani’s muffled voice weeps, sparing a floppy wave of her arm.

“We got some of your favorite desserts!” Susy motions to the kitchen tucked into the corner at their left, the island’s marble countertop covered from corner to corner with pizza boxes. Behind it, next to the sink, were indeed three stacks of boxes of her favorite chocolate snacks, and even a chocolate cake from one of her favorite restaurants.

Ren smiles as she pulls Susy in for another hug. Pretty, outgoing Susy Denison – her friend who gave a new definition to the phrase, “Every rose has its thorns.” Though quiet, she can keep a conversation with anyone; but make a wrong move against her or any of her friends, and she won’t back down from the challenge.

Her chocolate brown hair shines in the overhead kitchen lights, her matching eyes pinching as she tries to control a laugh at Mani’s misery.

Ren used to be jealous of her when they used to work together; almost everyone in the store knew who she was, and when she transferred, the interactions just haven’t been the same.

As Ren kicks off her slingback heels, she nudges her gym bag over on the coatrack to make room for her backpack. Sweeping the shoes into the pile by the door made by her friends, she sighs as she flexes her feet and carefully rubs the back of her blistering ankle. 

“You better not get stains on my couch,” she warns as she makes a beeline for her bedroom straight down the hall.

The apartment sports an open concept; its elegant taste displayed through the beige walls, the hanging accessories, and linoleum floors. The kitchen having dark wood cabinets, chrome appliances, and black granite counters. All of it impeccably clean and soft and welcoming – a home. Comforting and inviting.

Danika spares a salute with her pizza slice; her body, lithe and lean, sprawled along the chaise of their thundercloud grey sectional couch, a wall of pillows behind her. Her hair is a glossy pale silver, lined with pastel colors of purple, pink, orange, red and everything in between. Tonight, it falls into the loose waves past her shoulders.

Mani finally pulls herself from her wallowing desolation.

“You’re still playing?” Ren asks as she passes in front of the TV, the game’s main character floating in an endless abyss of black, a pink crystal heart twirling above him.

“I’ve taken breaks.” Mani immediately counters, pursing her lips and hugging her knees to her chest. Her sleek black hair seems to quiver with the effort of holding in her anger, her steel grey eyes near glowing.

“That twitch in your eye would suggest otherwise.” Ren smirks. “I’m going to wash up.”

“We’ll be here!” Susy calls as she joins Danika on the couch, two more slices of pizza on her paper plate.

“Save me a slice!” Ren calls as she pads into her bedroom, barely shutting the door behind her.

She heaves a sigh with her back pressed against the door, thumping her head as her hips presses her hands into the door. Mani started inviting Susy and Danika over a couple years ago when she saw the full extent of how this day affects Ren. Though she’s ever grateful for her little circle of friends, sometimes Ren just wanted peace and quiet despite Mani’s objections.

Susy and Danika are over almost every day – perks of living across the hall. They even exchanged keys, allowing each other to come and go whenever they want.

Her eyes flick to the nightstand and Ren practically leaps for it, taking three strides to the small table holding a lamp and the most recent book she’s been reading. Ren carelessly chucks her phone onto the bed, kneeling before the small nightstand. She pulls open the drawer and carefully fingers her way through the journals and papers, gathering and lifting them all out in a smooth motion.

Her heart nearly drops with relief at the sight of the purple wax reflecting in the dim light, almost appearing as if it were a glowing ember.

She carefully pulls it out of the drawer, holding it as if it were made of ash. Her thumb brushes over the wax seal, feeling the bumps of the initials stamped within. Ren brings the paper to her chest, cradling it close, but not enough to bend it too much. She spares a quick kiss to the paper before settling it back into its tomb, burying it once more beneath layers of paper and spiraled journals. All while repeating to herself that it’s there. It’s safe.

It’s safe.

It’s safe.

Rising to a stand, she runs her fingers through her hair before turning on her heels and making for the bathroom. She strips off her clothes, tossing them into the hamper just inside her closet before stepping into the tub and turning the silver knob.

She showers off the dust and grime that seems to coat her whenever she makes the fifteen-block walk between the grand limestone building that is the museum and the city’s central train station.

She lathers her sweat-sleeked hair with her favorite hibiscus shampoo and conditioner, washes away the oil of her pores with a kale foaming scrub, and scrubs herself pink with a lemon-scented bar of soap – though careful of the still-sensitive tattoo on her chest. She sighs with pleasure as the day’s filth and sweat and oil swirls down the drain with sweet-smelling bubbles.

Steam fills the bathroom when she steps out of the tub, wiping at the mirror to make sure she removed all the eye makeup. She usually doesn’t wear any, but her job at the museum compels her to; wanting to look professional and put-together.

With the rest of the bathroom blurred, Ren sighs at her reflection. She takes a comb from the drawer and rakes it through her fiery-red hair, bringing to attention the smattering of freckles that sprinkle across the bridge of her nose, spread across her chest, and at the tips of her shoulders. Throwing her hair forward, she squeezes out the remaining water, ruffling and wiping before flipping it back, the layered tips brushing the middle of her back.

She stares at herself; at the way her eyes almost seem to glow in the light of the bathroom. She can’t even remember what color they were before her allergic reaction. Though her mother claims they were like her grandfather’s – a stunning seafoam green coupled with a shimmering fog of blue and speckled gold. Like a star-flecked midnight.

She gently presses the tips of her pointer and middle finger to the Celtic Knot tattoo just over her heart. She hisses slightly, taking a deep breath. Maybe that particular spot was a bit of a bad idea, but since her grandfather sailed here from Ireland – the old man still holding his accent right up until his death – it seemed only fitting to have.

These knots, he’d said, are complete loops that have no start or finish. Only one thread is used in each design which symbolizes how life and eternity are interconnected, whether this means loyalty, faith, friendship or love.

One of a few tattoos she has: a simple wave design on the side of her ribs – gotten when she traveled to Hawaii on a family vacation; a cute little daisy on her right ankle from when she turned eighteen.

And most beautifully, a spine tattoo that she can only describe as a series of letters and intricate whorls of lines, thick and thin and twining, as it trails the entire linear of her back.

A gift from her grandfather. He’d said it’s supposed to be in an ancient alphabet, a language unfamiliar to most. She thought he meant Celtic, but despite how beautiful the designs were, she didn’t recognize it. But didn’t really question it either since he paid for the multiple sessions it took, and because it was a birthday gift to her.

Hanging her towel on the hook inside the door, Ren steps out and saunters over to her dresser. Changing into sweats and a loose T-shirt sporting one of her favorite childhood cartoons feels like a breath of release compared to the constrict of her dress pants and fitted blouses.

Ren snatches her phone from the bed, shoving her feet into her slippers before stepping back out into the living room.

Her friends seemed to have switched places: Danika is now playing the video game while Susy observes with intent eyes, munching on another pizza slice as she nestles into her own spot on the couch. Meanwhile, Mani is shoveling a slice down her throat, her eyes wide in warning for Ren to keep her mouth shut. Ren notes the unspoken plea, and merely smiles.

Several bottles of water are lined up along the back counter, some seemingly fresh out of the fridge as they drop condensation onto the marble counter. Ren tugs open the fridge, grabbing a fresh, cold water for herself. On the bottom shelf she can see a small bowl she usually uses for salads, filled to the brim with what smells like vodka and strawberry. No doubt a hard lemonade courtesy of Danika.

None of them really drink as much as her – especially after a rough day at work – but they still share some drinks when they all are feeling like shit. Ren twists the cap off of her water and pulls out the sliding garbage disguised as a cabinet door.

With a mouth full of pizza, Mani asks with a conspirator’s grin, “How was work? Damian ask you out again?”

Ren smacks her friend’s arm. “No,” she pouts, “thank god. He always seems discouraged when I call him by his ‘formal’ title.”

From over on the couch, Susy turns her head, and even if her eyes were on the TV, Ren knew Danika’s ears were intently listening.

Ren just shrugs. “Other than that, it was fine. Which reminds me,” – she whirls to face look at Danika in the middle of chugging her cup of hard lemonade – “fuck you for eating my leftover noodles! That was supposed to be my lunch for today!”

Danika snorts, but manages to save herself from spewing hard lemonade everywhere. “I said I would buy you more.” She snorts.

“And I’m still waiting!” Ren pouts. She turns back to Mani, Susy now poking her head in the fridge. “My mom also called, hence why I hung up on you, and never called back.”

Mani giggles, dropping the crust on her paper plate and swigs from her water. “What did she want?”

Another shrug. “She was just checking on me. See how I’m doing.”

“And . . .?” Mani drawls. “Are you okay?” She wipes her mouth, then her fingers with her napkin.

Ren rolls her eyes, but smiles as she turns and flips open the cardboard lid of the two pizza boxes on the counter. “I’m okay.”

Her answer came out too quickly, and both of them knew it. Mani’s eyes gleamed, her voice dropping low, but still loud enough for Susy and Danika to hear. “She brought up your aunt, didn’t she?”

Ren becomes aware of the silence as Danika pauses the game, rising from her spot on the couch. Susy gently closes the fridge as she opens another water.

“Unfortunately.” Ren mutters, chugging her water and contemplating about grabbing a glass and filling it to the brim with that hard lemonade.

She flips open the three other pizza boxes on the island counter, surveying the sea of cheese, pepperoni, sausage and . . . mushroom and spinach? That one’s probably Susy’s.

“Why don’t you just get a restraining order or something?” Danika asks, taking a seat at one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the island. Susy joins her while Mani and Ren stay in the kitchen.

Ren folds her arms and leans against the counter, a cold presence across her hips. “I don’t think I can. My aunt knows the law enough to space out her calls, so it doesn’t look suspicious. And since her voicemails don’t sound so threatening to an outside ear . . . I don’t know.”

As if in cruel mockery, the phone over on the end table next to the couch suddenly rings.

All of the women stiffen. Ren’s heart jumping to jackrabbit speed.

Danika stomps over to the machine, ending the call with a hard poke to the handset’s STOP button.

Unfortunately, it puts the call straight to voicemail, and her aunt’s sweet-venomed voice pops through the speakers.

“Hi Ren. It’s Aunt Julia. I just wanted to call and check up on you. See how you’re doing. When you have time, can you call me back? There’s just something I need to talk to you about. Hope to hear from you –”

Danika’s finger cuts off the voicemail with another jab to the button. The smoothness of the gesture tells Ren she’s trying her best not to smash the damn thing to pieces.

“That’s the sixth time she’s called.” Mani mutters, annoyance and fear lining her quiet tone.

“Why do you even have that thing?” Susy asks taking another swig from her water.

“Just so we have something for all the busybodies and telemarketers. It’s like a junk box so they don’t blow up our phones.”

As confirmed by the forty messages saved to the answering machine. Ren snatches up a slice of pepperoni pizza, tearing into it as Danika rejoins them. “You know, you should just let _me_ answer it. I’d get her to stop bothering you.”

Ren shakes her head, swallowing the huge bite. “No. Because then she could contact the police on accounts of threats of violence, blah, blah, blah. And I don’t want one of my best friends going to jail.”

“It’d be worth it if it meant she’d leave you alone. At the very least she might think she has the wrong number.” Danika says with a ghost of a smile, her tone both a confession and a truth. Ren gives a sad smile in appreciation.

“Then she’d likely try and call the rest of the family to confirm she has the right number.” Ren adds. Danika huffs a breath and rests her elbows on the island counter.

“Has no one else bothered to try and find that will? Or document, I guess?” Susy asks around a mouthful of cheese and bread.

“I’m sure they have; as much for me as it would be for them. But no one’s turned up anything. And under the court of law, none of them can ask his lawyer about it. Confidential information and such. Or at least, that’s what I assume. I’ve just been unlucky enough to be the target since I was the last one to speak to him.”

Mani has since slipped to the fridge, pulling out a round aluminum container holding a still-fairly-warm serving of fettuccine alfredo. Without a word she grabs a fork and hands it to Ren. With a quiet thanks, Ren places it on the counter, resting her elbows as well as she pokes at the cheesy pasta.

“And you never bothered to open the envelope he gave you?” Susy continues. Mani shoots her a warning glare, but Ren bumps her with a hip.

“No. He said to wait until I reach a low point, basically. And me being me, I want to respect his wishes.”

“Wonder what’s happened to that farm.” Danika ponders, speaking to one on in particular.

Ren snorts. “By now, it’s probably so overgrown.”

“You never know; he might’ve paid for it’s upkeep.” Mani suggests, taking another swig of water.

“Well, no one said anything about the house getting demolished, so I guess that’s a good sign.” Ren mutters, draining the last of her water, chucking the plastic into the recycling, and rotting around in the fridge for another. Every muscle in her body feels taut – on a hair trigger. She slams the fridge shut and leans against it. As she twists the cap off of the bottle, she takes a deep breathing, trying to calm her stomach before it regurgitates the pizza and pasta.

“The city couldn’t demolish it, could they?” Danika asks.

“I wouldn’t even call it a city. Stardew Valley is very small. Like, _tiny_.” Ren says. “It might’ve expanded a little bit since I was there – that was well over a decade ago. I don’t even know if that mayor, Lewis is even still alive. And to answer your question, no. Not likely. It’d be too much of a headache anyway since they don’t know who really owns it now.”

“What was the farm called again?” Susy asks with a childlike smile.

Ren chuckles to herself. “My grandpa used to call it Little Feet Farm. I thought it was silly, but it seemed fitting. There were so many of us running around all the time whenever we had a vacation there.”

Her friends giggle, Susy chirping to say, “I think it sounds cute.”

“Thanks.” Ren sighs, turning the bottle around between her hands. She says brightly, “Well, I’ve had a long day at work, and nothing would make me happier than to see Mani try and beat this boss level.”

Mani moans as the four of them meander back into the living room. Susy and Danika simultaneously giving her advice on how to beat the boss – even when Ren and Mani have played the game so many times, they could recite every character’s dialogue verbatim.

Ren takes the chaise, Susy plopping herself next to her while Danika sits next to Mani on the floor in front. Nestling into the mound of pillows Danika had created, Ren pulls one to her front, clasping it to her chest as she stretches out her legs.

As Mani resumes the game, Ren looks out the balcony doors, past the building’s parking lot and past the smattering of trees and grass that divides her building from another across the lot. Sometimes she wonders what she’s to do with herself.

Ren Addler. Receptionist at a museum, despite having a major in agriculture. Would be, famous fantasy author. Chronic loner who can barely get a boy to look at her without him being weirded out or completely entranced by her eyes. A broken girl who still holds onto her grandfather’s passing like it’s a shard jammed into her broken and barely healing heart. And dealing with an aunt who’d only desecrate her grandfather’s dreams and belongings all for the want of making money.

She could never understand how a person could just drop their things and leave on a thought. Her grandfather did it – it’s how he gained ownership of the farm in the first place. She’s seen it done in movies and TV shows, all of them conveniently skipping over the long process it would take to make a decision like that.

The sound of frantic chirping and exaggerated breathing drags her attention back over to Danika and Mani who’ve now cleared half of the boss’s health. She can’t help but smile at how Mani swears at the TV, Danika clinging to her like she’s a piece of debris in a raging sea.

Her eyes flick to the wall behind the TV, the wall that separates the living room from the small hallway that leads to her bedroom.

She could almost see the nightstand. See the envelope tucked safely into the drawer, hidden behind papers and journals.

Ren doesn’t know if it’s the ache from the still-healing tattoo over her heart, but she ends up rubbing her chest from a severe pinching. Her stomach seems unsettled, something deep within her pacing about like a lion in a cage. Some might call it, Intuition.

Quietly excusing herself, Ren goes back to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Inside, she immediately aims for her closet, pulling open the sliding doors. She kneels down and rummages her hand through the piles of dirty clothes, old school supplies and boxes until her hands bump over a familiar grainy texture.

She pulls out the small box and lays it before her.

Opening it up, she pulls out the black gun and palms it in her hands, careful to keep her finger off of the trigger. With practiced skill that’s become muscle memory at this point, Ren drops the magazine and pulls the slide back to peer into the barrel. She turns the gun over and shakes out the round until it plops into the foam cushioning of the case.

She double checks that there’s still the same twelve bullets in the magazine and the one extra she keeps in the chamber. All there.

Her father had been the one to teach her about firearms; who took her to the range well until she moved into her new apartment. Even if they can’t go together, Ren still goes during her free time to keep herself loose. Learning and owning a gun was something her father continually pressed her about, near making it a requirement for her to but before she even picked out a new place.

Ren didn’t mind it. In fact, it made her feel so much safer since she didn’t have her military-trained father around, or a boyfriend to help keep her safe. Of course she can do fine on her own, but that doesn’t mean she always has to go first if there’s an unfamiliar noise. But having it in the apartment almost felt, taboo. Technically the landlord never said she couldn’t have a gun in the apartment, in the building. And no one is really supposed to know, anyway. At least, not outside of her little group.

She loads the magazine back in before placing it back in its box and carefully hiding it like she did before. She’s thought of several hiding places for her gun in just her bedroom alone, same for the envelope her grandfather gave her upon his deathbed.

But as she looks towards the nightstand again . . .

Fuck it.

It takes several minutes for Ren to carefully hide and secure the envelope in a different spot. Several more minutes of contemplation before she was satisfied enough that no one is ever going to find it.

God, she hates how her aunt has made her this way. Maybe filing for that restraining order wasn’t such a crazy idea. An impact on her mental health has to account for _something_.

But Ren finally leaves her room after nearly half an hour alone, almost surprised none of her friends came to check on her. She walks out in time to see Mani toss the controller.

Not out of anger this time, but –

“FINALLY!” She screams, near rattling the apartment.

Danika laughs hysterically, clapping her hands while Susy holds her arms up in the victory pose. Mani simply flops back onto the rug pinned beneath the couch’s legs.

Ren herself applauds as she resumes her spot, Mani complaining on and on about the boss fight, how she hates him, why they need to nerf him, and how defeating him is always worth it because it immediately cuts to a cutscene where the two characters finally confess their love for one another and share a passionate kiss.

She resumes her spot on the couch, hugging the pillow again as she laughs as Mani and Danika spastically talk back and forth, Susy leaning back into the mound of pillows with a content smile. Ren mirrors her friend’s movements, but she can’t help looking out the balcony door again.

Despite the gleaming pink and silver twilight settling over the neighborhood, Ren’s heart feels heavy as her mind wonders what her life would be like if she just caved and gave her aunt the envelope.

She immediately shuts that thought down. Burying it deep and burning it.

She won’t disappoint her grandfather like that. Won’t give away what he’s worked for just so she could have an even more boring and uneventful life. She hugs the pillow closer to herself.

She knew they were close, but what in the world could he have in store for her once she opens that envelope?

And just how far is her aunt willing to go to get what’s inside it?


	4. Chapter 3

There is a gate, and eternity lies beyond its black archway.

But not for her. No, this isn’t some doorway into the Afterlife.

It is a glimpse into another world.

It is a land of unimaginable perfection and beauty, existing somewhere beyond the brilliance of the sun. A paradise.

From far beyond the threshold of the gate, she could hear it.

Singing.

One of the most beautiful and haunting melodies she’s ever heard – so perfect that even god had to pause and listen to the sweet notes.

But she cannot reach it, cannot go to it even when her blood roars and her skin writhes.

There’s a coffin, crafted of dark, glimmering stone.

Stone her fire cannot melt. Cannot pierce. The only way to escape is to become it – dissolve into it like sea-foam on a beach.

Every breath is thinner than the previous one. There are no holes in this coffin.

It’s trying to smother her flames. Her light.

Smother _her_.

Beyond her confines, she knew a second coffin sits beside hers. Knew, because the muffled screams within still reach her here.

Both trapped by the suffocating stone. Trapped by –

The air will run out soon. She’s already lost too much of it in her frantic clawing at the stone. Attempting to get out, attempting to get to those familiar, pained screams. Her fingertips pulse where she’s broken nails and skin.

Those screams became quieter.

She should accept it, embrace it. Only when she did will the lid open.

The air is so hot, so precious.

She can’t get out, can’t get out—

Ren rockets up with a devouring gasp, immediately the world spins and tilts, causing her to clench her eyes and place her head in her palm. Her other hand she places on her stomach and takes deep breaths.

Her body is covered in sweat, the blanket clinging to her legs. Slowly, a thin wave of nausea creeps through her head. Her throat is raw, her mouth full of ash, her face soaked and sticky.

Looking all around the room, she remembers where he is. In her apartment. Everything’s fine. Normal. A sliver of early morning sunlight slices through the crevice of the blackout curtains pulled closed in front of the balcony door.

She’s safe.

She’s safe.

Before her lies Danika, Mani, and Susy; the latter lying across from the two up as if they were Tetris pieces. All sound asleep, their breathing even, faces softened into content beauty.

On the couch, Ren crosses her legs and rests her elbows on her knees, her face in her hands. She keeps taking greedy but slow inhales of air. She rakes her fingers through her hair, swallowing past the tightness in her throat. Closing her eyes, she rests her face in her hands once again.

What kind of a dream was that? She’s had weird dreams before, she just assumed that was a part of life, but this . . .

Those screams, that ominous presence that seemed to wait for her outside of that coffin. Waiting for her to break free, waiting for her to burst forth so it would sink its teeth into. Rip her very soul to shreds if she dared to escape.

Escape and be eaten, to save whoever else was next to her screaming, or suffocate at the hands of that confining stone.

Ren carefully rubs a pinched nerve twitching over her heart, still careful of the tattoo. Though today, it seems to have healed more, the area not so sensitive to the touch. More breathing, more breathing. Slowly, heart starts to calm. 

Ren looks out to the room before her. Danika and Susy ended up staying the entire night, and into the morning. They only went back to their apartment to collect their pillows and blankets, and Danika grabbed another bottle of vodka to make more of that hard lemonade.

Ren was every grateful for them being here . . . as well as not having work today. Once Danika made more of that hard lemonade, Ren did her best to pace herself, but also swig enough that she was able to finally drown out her aunt’s voice. If it weren’t for the pizza, she might’ve been sticking her head in the toilet this morning.

As per usual, she was the first to go to sleep and the first to wake up. So, once she decided she wasn’t going to topple to the floor, she got herself up and padded towards the kitchen. With muscle memory, she begins to pull some bowls and pans from the cabinets, then over to the fridge to pull some milk and eggs. Next to the fridge is a small pantry where she pulls the pancake mix as well as the bag of chocolate chips. She nudges it closed with her hip as she sets the items on the counter.

With a wide yawn, she dumps some powdered mix into the bowl, then the eggs and the milk. As she starts to mix, she sees Mani shift out of the corner of her eye. Looking over, her friend simply turns over before settling back into sleep.

Another yawn has Ren reaching for coffee maker on the counter behind her, the power button glowing bright green as she presses it. The machine comes alive with a deep hum as it preheats. Turning back at the bowl, Ren dumps a mound of chocolate chips into the bowl before mixing again.

As the creamy batter swallows the chocolate, Ren looks over to the answering machine.

The new message blinks at her in neon red light. That numeral one flashing again and again.

Just looking at it has her stomach clenching. Her aunt hadn’t called the rest of the night, thank god. By then she’d already drank enough of that hard lemonade to actually consider answering the next call and telling her aunt to fuck off.

Her gaze switches over towards her open bedroom door. She can almost hear the letter beckoning to her. Only she doesn’t know if it’s her own curiosity, or intuition.

She wants to know what’s inside just like anyone else, but what low point is she supposed to hit exactly? And where is it supposed to happen?

Her career?

Her job?

God, friendship, or relationship? Well . . . she can check the latter off the list.

She pivots and turns on the stove, slapping a square of butter at its center. Within a minute it starts to slide around, a soft sizzling filling the apartment. Another bit of movement out of the corner of her eye, but Ren pays it no mind. The time on the oven reads: 10:26. They need to get up anyway. One of them is bound to have work, even on a Saturday.

Ren carefully pours the batter at the center of the pan, the mixture already sizzling and hardening. She pulls out a spatula from the drawer, careful not to drip batter on the counter. Another bit of movement from the corner of her eye. As she watches the chocolate chips roll over in the batter, her thinks about her own state of life, what it’s come to.

She’s been content with how things turned out for her. It was honestly better than she’d imagined. She’d gotten her own job to provide for herself, she has her own place with her own roommate. She can pay her bills with still some money left over for personal spending.

All in all, her life is fine but . . . something is missing.

Something just feels so incomplete. She’d thought it was just the never-ending ache of missing her grandfather, and it still might be but just, different. Her eyes flick to her open bedroom again. Almost hearing the silent beckoning to come and look. To see.

She flips the pancake over, the one side already a deep brown – close to being burnt.

Her grandfather always called her special; his little sunshine. But Ren just thought that was something all grandparents say about their grandkids, even if she’d never heard him call anyone else by that nickname. And he never mentioned any disapproval about how she lived her life, though she did once catch him gazing at her with this melancholic longing swimming in his slate grey eyes. A ghost of a smile hidden between the strands of his beard.

Ren winces against a pain in her lower back as she checks the pancake before scooping it onto a plate. She pours again after adding another small scoop of butter.

She thought it was normal for grandparents to want more for their grandkids, but she could never get over how her grandfather always stared at her. If it wasn’t with love and happiness, it was forlorn and sorrow.

This pancake has a better, lighter brown shade to it as she flips it. Soft, bare feet pad towards her in the kitchen, and Danika rubs her eyes as her mouth opens wide into a yawn.

“I thought something smelled good,” she mouths through her gape.

“Good morning,” Ren smiles.

Danika’s first stop is the coffee machine, her hand reaching up to open the cabinet that holds all the coffee mugs. The flow in her muscles shows how routine this is for her, and how often she’s stopped by Ren’s house.

“You have work today?” Ren asks, placing the finished pancake on the plate.

Danika immediately swoops in and swipes up the plate, a fork already in hand. Ren didn’t even see her rummage through the drawers. “Not today. But I think Susy works in the evening. Mani?”

“Same thing,” she says as she pours another puddle of batter into the fridge. Looks like she’ll have enough to make two for everyone.

“You alright? You look a little pale.” Danika asks as she settles into one of the barstools on the other side of the island.

Ren shakes her head. “Had a weird dream last night. Likely brought on by my aunt.”

Danika shovels down a few bites of pancake, grimaces a bit, then reaches over to grab the maple syrup. Ren watches with a snort as she drowns the cake in the flowing golden goo. “Listen, I know this week has been hard for you, and it just so _happens_ that we’re both off work today, and it just so _happens_ to be a weekend.”

“Danika –”

“Come on!” Danika says with a whispered chirp. “This little country-themed club is so cute! I think you’d like it. It’s small, it’s really quaint, lots of good security.”

“I don’t do clubbing.”

“Only because you haven’t tried it.” Danika says with a pointing of her fork at Ren. With a roll of her eyes, Ren turns her attention back to the pancakes. Still Danika continues. “I think you’d like it. It’s _very_ casual, _very_ laid back. It’s different from your usual club.”

“Danika, _our_ definitions of casual, are _very_ different.”

Her rainbow-haired friend sticks her tongue out at her before resuming back to her pancakes. A tangled gathering of her hair falls over her shoulder, the curls still round with life despite being plastered flat to the top of her head. At some point in the night, she’d changed into her pajamas, Ren admiring the detailed ink of her floral sleeve tattoo. Different flowers and leaves and vines entangle and twine their way down to her wrist, ending at a sharp line like a cuff. She’d said she would get it colored later, but Ren can’t see anywhere else she could put another tattoo.

“Alright, let me just explain the place to you.” Danika suddenly blurts, letting her fork clatter to her plate.

Ren’s shoulders droop, her head dangling to the side in playful aggravation. She plates another pancake before saying, “I’m listening.”

“Yes!” Danika hisses. “Okay, so look. It’s no bigger than a karaoke bar, it’s got a long and wide dance floor, and the bar and tables kind of border it. They always have four security guards in each corner of the room, it’s got nice lights over the dance floor along with some neon ones along the walls, and all this cowboy memorabilia – You’d really like it!”

“You’ve been there before? Doesn’t really sound like your kind of scene.”

“Oh please, if I can handle being there, you can too.”

“Again, Danika, we have very different perceptions on certain things.”

Danika was no less a party princess during their years of college, and Ren being the ever over-bearing mother hen, she didn’t really approve of it, but there wasn’t anything she could say or do to get her to stop. As long as Danika made it back to their dorm room safe – their setup near exact to their living arrangement now – Ren could tolerate her friend’s late-night rendezvous. At least she never _hosted_ any of her own parties, then Ren wouldn’t have hesitated to walk in her with her pistol and dismiss the party herself.

It’s the closest you’ll ever come to being a bitch, Susy once said, is when someone interrupts your sleep, god forbid. Mani and Danika were quick to agree. Perhaps it shouldn’t have felt as prideful as it did.

Ren never really enjoyed such an environment. And with all of the horror stories she’s heard come out of such places – and apart from the fact that she was such a goody-two-shoes – Ren vowed to never let herself be so fucked up that she couldn’t control herself. Some would argue that she’s not living to her fullest quality of life, but it’s her life, and she’ll live how she wants.

If Ren was going to be old, she would be in her apartment with the drapes drawn and mirrors covered and a really big bottle of Nyquil, Danika would be a platinum blonde prune down in Miami pulling up her tube top and cha-cha-cha-ing with the cabana boys.

“Just come and see. Their best attraction is their line dancing. I think you’d like it.”

Finally finished with the pancakes, Mani and Susy just starting to turn and awaken in their blankets, Ren turns to her friend. She snorts when she finds Danika with her chin between her hands, and a puppy-dog pout on her pale pink lips.

Breaking up her giggle, her head dangling in amusement for a second, Ren takes a deep breath. “If we were to do this, we’re going it my way.”

“Yes!”

“I’m not drinking, I’ll be the driver. I’m not doing any or whatever drugs might be there, I’m probably not going to dance. But I’ll go.”

Danika lifts up her coffee mug and gives her a salute. “Good enough for me.”

She takes a swig from her coffee as if it were a shot.

“Oh, and don’t tell Susy or Mani.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to savor the moment I text them, and see their reaction, when you and I have our own little girl’s night.” Danika says with a wink.

She then takes her empty coffee mug and rattles its insides with her fork. Ren winces as Danika shouts. “Come and get it, mongrels!”

Ren giggles as Susy and Mani groan in annoyance, slowly unraveling themselves in their blanket cocoons.

Even though she was able to enjoy the day to herself, Mani and Susy having left for work and Danika to pick out an outfit for tonight, her stomach still tightened at the thought of going out to the bar, club thing tonight.

Still, Danika wasn’t wrong. And honestly, if she has to go through one more voicemail of her aunt’s, Ren might just call back . . . or mash the machine to pieces. The latter seemingly more appropriate . . . and relieving.

But still the day goes by too quickly, and in a blink she’s in the bathroom styling her heavy sheet of red-gold hair into loose waves, and hastily applying a coat of mascara to bring some life into her golden eyes. Form shower to sliding into her brown combat boots, it’s a grand total of twenty minutes.

Proof, she realizes, of how little she really cares about his friendship outing. She spends a damn _hour_ on her hair and makeup every morning she has work, and that’s excluding the time she takes to get _up_ from bed and force some breakfast into her stomach before having to catch her train.

She stabs some rose gold studs into her ears, hoping half-heartedly that they add some class to what might be considered a somewhat a too-laid-back outfit for a dance hall. Still, she gives her denim-covered jeans a little smile as she twists in front of the full-length mirror propped against the wall to admire the slope of her ass.

Looking at the red and purple flannel she threw on, she at least has some sense to knot the ends in the front, resting just above her midriff to reveal the white tank top beneath. She even wore the push-up bra Danika got her last Christmas, and yes – it does give her boobs some actual form.

There’s a knock on her door before it swings open and Ren steps out of her room to meet Danika walking into the kitchen. Her friend opted for a thin-strapped shirt that stops just above her navel, revealing the thin band of skin before the waist of her pants flows into heeled bootie shoes. Modest for Danika, even if the shirt and pants look painted on.

Danika paws through the upper cabinets, her pastel ponytail swinging, glass rattling as she searches for the –

The gin?

She knocks back a shot. Then another.

“Are we in for a rough night ahead?” Ren asks from where she leans against the island counter, arms crossed.

A drop of gin lands on her chin. Danika narrowly avoids wiping the sin-red lipstick off her mouth with the back of her wrist and instead opts for patting it away with a napkin. Like a proper person.

“You should call that Blow Job Red,” Ren says. “Because that’s all any man will think about when you wear it.”

“Wonder what the women think when they see me.” Danika says with a wicked wink.

Danika was the perfect example of bisexuality at it’s finest. The three of them thought she only swung one way when she dated a guy for the first two years of college, then imagine their surprise when one day they saw Danika walking arm-in-arm with a pretty young woman the last two years of college. She’s been both ends of the spectrum ever since, never really settling down.

“We’ve got a long enough weekend ahead of us, not to mention this is your first time going out to a club – with me, and only me! Why not kick it off early?”

“How long are you planning to be there?” Ren asks.

“Think of it like a family party. We get in there, spend a couples hanging around the people, and then we head back.” She must’ve read the obvious reluctance on Ren’s face because she claps her palms together and says, “We arrive by six p.m., we dance for a couple of hours, and we’re out of there before the late-night swingers.”

“Swingers?”

“They were a thing.”

“Maybe in the nineteen-twenties.”

Danika pouts with furrowed brows. “Don’t go getting cold feet on me now. I’ve already secured us a booth.”

“I’m not, I just . . . I’m more nervous that excited.”

Danika walks towards her and brushes her hands along Ren’s shoulders. “You say that now, but once you step inside and you hear that music, I promise, you won’t need any drugs to forget about that bitch you call an aunt.”

Ren can’t help but smile. “And you’ve been here before?”

“Oh yeah. It’s very casual. Very laid back compared to most clubs. It’ll be right up your alley.” She says with a poke to Ren’s chest. “Now, come here.”

She tugs Ren close as she pulls out her phone and swipes her thumb across the screen to the camera. A tap in the lower right-hand corner has the camera switching from her kitchen to them.

Danika gives a wink with the tip of her tongue hooked in the corner of her mouth, while Ren – uncreative and unoriginal – gives her best smile but with a cringy peace sign into the camera. A brief flash of black on the screen, and their photo is saved.

Ren leans over Danika’s shoulder as she sends the photo into the group chat the four of them shared with the message: _Guess who’s going out tonight_!!

Ren snorts, ignoring her phone buzzing in her back pocket. Almost instantly Susy replies. _WHAT?!?! YOU MEAN YOU ACTUALLY GOT REN TO GO OUT?!?! AND YOU’RE GOING WITHOUT MEEEEEEEEEEEEE?! TRAITOR!_

Another message. Mani this time. _HOW DARE YOU BOTH GO OUT WITHOUT US. AND AFTER_ FINALLY _CONVINCING REN_!!!!!

Danika snorts. _Enjoy your work shifts tonight, losers_.

“Is it really that shocking for me to go out with you guys?” Ren asks as Danika pockets her phone. She herself goes over to the coatrack to fetch her backpack.

“Ren, you haven’t been to a club type environment since the high school dances. And even _that’s_ being generous.” Danika says as she puts the gin back and the shot glass in the sink.

“I don’t really like that kind of space. I’d feel much better going to a warm café.”

“And that’s why you’re the classiest out of all of us!” Danika chirps, meeting her by the front door.

Ren’s phone then buzzes in her pocket. She chuckles as she fishes it out. Danika peers over her shoulder at Mani’s text. _DO NOT HAVE FUN WITHOUT ME. I FORBID YOU_.

“Here,” says Ren.

She holds her phone up and swipes to her own camera. Danika is already a step ahead of her as she fiddles with her hair and rests her chin on Ren’s shoulder.

This time, Ren angles her eyes inward as she pokes out her tongue, Danika flipping her middle finger to the camera as her tongue hanging out. A flash of black, and the photo tucks away into her album. Ren sends the photo with a few heart emojis as her only response.

Danika bursts into laughter as she loops her arm around Ren’s shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go make these bitches writhe in their seats.”


	5. Chapter 4

Danika lied. She’s never been to this place before. But even so, to call itself a club was a bit of a stretch.

This place, it might as well have been a church gathering, but they did their best: the music still thumped heavy through the giant speakers flanking the three-step stage along the back wall; the drinks were cold and delicious, and the flaring lights did their best to help build the ecstasy in the cacophony of sweat-drenched bodies.

She also knew it was the only place Ren would even _consider_ going to. No doubt the ever-watchful gaze of the patrolling security helped ease her nerves.

Here the music wasn’t the endless, pulsing beats with sounds of chirps and chimes and drones from a mechanical board, instead it was words of the singer carrying the notes throughout the stunning acoustics of the building. Even if they were indefinable to the dancing throng that is the crowd, it’s still upbeat and most of the songs have a musical solo. It ranged between genres, but it never slows; never allows the couples of the clientele to have to floor to themselves, giving the singles more of a reason to chug the endless flow of alcohol.

Even if it wasn’t like the stained-glass, domed ceiling of her favorite club, Danika still savored every delight the club offered.

Boots were stomping against the polished wooden floor, and long hair is flipping in all directions as the women turn in time with the rest of the group. Men with cowboy hats are waving them in the air as they turn and stomp. Their whooping and cheering in time with the steady beat of the music.

Ren lived up to her rules, abstaining from the booze. But the only rule she broke was abstaining from dancing. If that didn’t speak volumes of her friend’s comfortableness in this place, Danika didn’t know what did.

She always admired Ren for keeping away from things like drugs and booze. Sure, they can give lectures in school, parents can have the talks with their kids, but in the end, it’s just something that’s a part of life. An adaptation that came with aging and experience.

But Ren, she never felt the need for _any_ of it.

She was perfectly content to just sitting in a corner and drinking a glass of cold water. And she seemed to still have as much fun – if not more – than anyone who got doped up at a party. Not that she ever deigned to visit one anyway.

Where the hell is Ren, anyway?

Danika reduces herself into the pulsing beat of the music, to the euphoria glittering through her blood faster than a hawk diving out of the sky, to the sweat sliding down her body as she writhes on the dance floor. She’ll barely be able to walk tomorrow, would have half a brain, but holy shit – _more_ , _more_ , _more_.

Laughing, she swoops over the low-lying table of their private booth tucked into one of the back corners of the club, but still has a direct line to the dance floor; laughing, her lips envelope the side of a deliciously seasoned chicken wing as she sags against the dark leather bench; laughing, she knocks back water and a shot of strawberry flavored gin and stumbles again into the dancing throng.

Life is good. Life is so fucking _good_ , and she can’t wait to do this with her friends until the world crumbles into dust.

She finds Ren dancing amid a pack of women celebrating their friend’s twenty-first birthday. Her red hair shines like a glowing beacon. A halo of shimmering gold light emanating from her friend.

Danika blinks a couple of times, thinking her eyes are blurring from the booze, or maybe she’s seeing a trick of the light.

One blink, it’s there.

Another and it’s gone.

The heads of the women are adorned with circlets of neon glow sticks chock-full of meshing color. Ren’s dancing among them as if she’s known the women her whole life. Ren had managed to swipe a glow-stick halo for herself, and her hair shines with blue light as she extends her hands to Danika, their fingers linking as they dance.

Her beautiful, fiery-red haired friend.

Pretty, quiet Ren Addler – the exhibitionist. Even dancing in the heart of the floor, she is sweet and mild, but she shines.

The music picks up, the crowd swooping in a unified motion towards the stage. A few stragglers join the crowd in anticipation for this dance. Seemingly controlled by the sway of the singer’s voice, Danika watches as people spread apart, as if the dance floor had taken a deep breath and settles into their own little spot. Everyone starts dancing in unison, their wild twists and steps abandoned to join the majority.

Danika sees Ren join in with the sudden line dance, moving easily with the beat, picking up the dance at a fast pace. Ren does her best to follow, her steps slow at first. After a few wrong turns and clapping at the wrong time – and with the proper guidance from Danika – she finally gets the hang of it, and finds her friend smiling and laughing as they dance.

Ren’s glittering eyes tell Danika she understands, has always understood the particular freedom and joy and unleashing that comes from dancing. Even if Ren usually only did it in the privacy of her room. Like their bodies are so full of sound they can barely contain it, can barely stand it, and only _dance_ can express it, ease it, honor it.

Men and women gather to watch, their lust coating Danika’s skin like sweat. Ren’s every movement matches hers without so much as a lick of hesitation, as if they are question and answer, sun and moon.

Her hair clings to her sweaty neck, her feet are utterly numb and heated thanks to her socked feet inside her heeled booties, her throat ravaged from screaming along to the songs that blast through the club.

She manages to shoot a few messages to Susy and Mani in their group chat – and one video, because she can barely contain the never-ending excitement that can’t be expressed with just words.

God she can’t _wait_ to see their reaction at the video she’d sent of Ren dancing among a group of strangers – granted women – smiling and laughing and riding along the tracks of a different kind of ecstasy. Not the kind brought on by drugs and alcohol.

No, not for Ren.

This was the kind that was created by the self. The elation of pure joy and release, as if she’s been crafted for this: the moment when she _becomes_ the notes and rhythm and the bass, when she becomes song given form.

Danika doesn’t know why some nice guy hasn’t snatched her up yet. And she asked as much as the two of them walked through the parking lot towards Ren’s car. Ren’s arm is draped across her back, Danika’s across her friend’s shoulder with their fingers interlaced. “How the hell, are you still single?” she slurs with a giggle.

“I don’t know,” Ren replies, careful of her feet as the two of them stumble from exhaustion. “I could ask the same of you, pretty princess.”

Ren guides them over to her car, settling Danika up against the trunk and just waits. Her friend’s beautiful golden eyes are as clear as a mountain lake. She likely didn’t even have a single sip of alcohol, but her cheeks are flushed with color and her curls have fallen into an exhausted limpness only achieved when having the time of your fucking life.

Danika waves her off. “I’ll be fine.”

A half-truth. She ate enough of that place’s greasy food to counter the alcohol in her system, but the world is still tilting, unsettled, and she wonders if she might’ve pushed her body a little too far tonight. At least the spring chill is doing wonders for her sweat-smeared skin.

“You say that now, but don’t think I won’t kick your ass if you puke in my car. If you have to do something, do it here.”

Danika waves her off, but still takes a deep breath of cold air to calm her mind. Ren might not look like it, but those arms hold tremendous strength. Ren’s dad is a police officer, and he’d wanted to make sure Ren would always be able to protect herself.

Smart man. Especially with the amount of fucked up people in this world. Danika swallows at the memory of the gun tucked away in her friend’s closet. Ren was even courteous enough to teach each of them the basics of self-defense.

Another wave of her hand. Another deep breath. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

Danika pauses as she feels something move up into her chest.

She angles her head away as she belches loud enough to rattle the streetlight above them. Ren bursts into laughter. Danika pats her chest and clears another small burp before saying, “Yeah, I think I’ll be okay.”

“Alright, get in.” Ren giggles.

Danika walks herself around to the passenger side of the car, opening the door, and plopping herself into the seat. Ren’s car always smelled of freesia body spray and chocolate.

As Ren tosses their things into the back seat, Danika pulls out her phone. Her thumb habitually opens to their group chat and she chuckles. “Susy and Mani are mad.”

“Are they?” Ren giggles as she turns on the air conditioner.

“Look.”

She leans in to show her the blaring brightness of her phone screen. The first text she’d sent to the group was a photo of Ren dancing among that group of girls along with a message that read, _Our little girl is growing up_!

Then a short, dark video, shaking as someone roars with laughter while Danika flips off the camera as she leans in next to Ren. The two friends nuzzle cheek to cheek, Ren even kissing Danika’s cheek, her friend’s golden eyes glowing like wildfire. Both are laughing, so bright and alive as they shriek the song’s lyrics into the camera.

Mani’s written reply was, _NOOOOOOOOOOO!! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU TWO! STOP HAVING FUN WITHOUT US_!

After the text several crying emojis follow.

The two of them giggle as Ren starts the car, the engine roaring and the lights illuminating the dark parking lot. The clock of the radio reads midnight. Danika is surprised. It felt like they’ve been out all night, then again, Ren was probably keeping an eye on the clock. She wouldn’t stay out past midnight, even for a menial task. She was always the first one to fall asleep whenever they slept over at each other’s houses.

Danika cracks her window as Ren drives, closing her eyes as she hums with happiness at the gentle kiss of spring’s chill.

It felt like she’d napped for an hour by the time Ren pulls into her parking spot of their building’s lot. As the two exit the car with their assorted things, Danika scours the lot for any sign of Susy or Mani’s car. She didn’t see any, figuring they both got held up at work. She pulls out her phone and sees no new messages. So, she decides to send one letting both know they’ve arrived back home.

“If you want, you can just stay over tonight,” Ren says as they pause outside their building door.

Danika is inclined to agree as she unstraps her booties and gathers them in a hand. Uncaring of her socked feet, see nods her head as Ren punches in their building’s code with a giggle. The lock releases with and a faint, tinny sound, and a droning buzz.

Danika groans as she stretches out her feet, flexing them along the floor as she walks in an attempt to ease their soreness. Thank _god_ their building has an elevator. Ren’s feet seem to be fine, either that or she’s doing a damn good job at hiding her own pain. But then again, those combat boots don’t have as solid of a heel.

The doors greets them with a cheerful ding, and the silver doors slides open. They step inside and Ren presses the button for the third floor.

As the door closes them in, _that_ is when Ren decides to peel off her boots _and_ her socks. She sighs with relief, and the exhaustion that floods her face as she thumps her head against the wall of the elevator has Danika readying to catch her friend should she just collapse.

But Ren holds on with an exhausted giggle and the elevator opens to the blue painted hallway of the third floor. The two women link arms as turn left and head down the hall to their appropriate doors.

Danika’s phone buzzes and she fishes it out to find both Susy and Mani having texted that they’re on their way home. Susy sparing a quick photo of her flexing her arm in the mirror of the gym Danika knew was a couple blocks down from their building.

She’d been taking boxing lessons ever since Ren showed them the basics of self-defense, and the proof is shown in the growing definition in her arms and abs. Must’ve been a cheat day from the way she wolfed down those pizza slices yesterday.

Ren dug out her keys from her purse as the two of them close in on their doors, Danika looking towards the security camera tucked into the upper left corner. Huh, didn’t that thing _always_ have a blinking light on it –?

Suddenly Ren’s keys clatter to the floor, clinking on the tile. Her feet stop dead on the carpet, a couple of feet from her apartment door.

Danika looks down at the keys confused, her arm instantly locking, ready to catch her friend is she falls.

But Ren stays still. In fact, too still.

As rigid as death.

Danika looks at her friend and finds her face pale – so much so her freckles look like splattered blood across the bridge of her nose. She was about to ask if Ren was going to vomit, until she saw her friend’s golden gaze locked onto something.

Following their path, Danika’s herself stills when she looks towards the end of the hall, towards their doors.

Ren’s apartment door is already open.

The lock has been mangled, the handle wrenched off completely.

“Oh god,” Danika whispers.

“Mani?” Ren croaks.

“Mani and Susy are on their way home.” Danika confirms.

Ren’s quivering hand pushes the door open farther.

Blackness greets them.

Danika’s entire body seizes, every muscle going on alert, every instinct screaming to _run_ , _run_ , _run_ –

But their eyes adjust to the dark, revealing the apartment.

What is left of it.

“No . . .” Ren whimpers.

Help – they need to get _help_ , but –

Ren staggers into the trashed apartment.

“Ren!” Danika hisses, trying to keep her voice as quiet as she can. If the burglar is still inside . . .

There isn’t a piece of furniture that’s intact, that isn’t toppled over or splintered or broken.

Ren’s breath begins to saw out of her, her friend’s shoulders trembling. The shoes of their feet crinkle and crack over and fragments of glass and splinters of wood.

They need to call someone, need to scream for help, need to get the police, or Ren’s father –

Danika’s shaking fingers wrap around the metal leg of one of the end tables, silently lifting it over her shoulder.

Her friend heads for her bedroom, Danika about to hiss her name again, but opts to follow close behind.

Ren’s bedroom door is destroyed, holes kicked into the door, splitting right down the middle. The posters on the walls hang in ribbons, her entire room sprawling with clothes that have been tossed about, her mattress flipped and stripped of its sheets. Her dresser and nightstand drawers pulled out and plucked apart.

Danika gently grasps her friend’s elbow, ready to slowly guide her out of the bedroom. Out of the apartment and back downstairs.

But Ren just stares and stares.

* * *

Perhaps time has stopped. Perhaps she is hallucinating, or maybe she’s even dead. She can’t feel her body.

Only the sudden remembrance of her gun has her taking three strides through splintered wood and discarded clothes.

Careless and numb, she shoves aside the remaining hanging clothes and tears through boxes and shows and purses along the bottom of her closet floor.

 _Please_ , _please_ , _please –_

There! Oh, thank god it’s still there!

She thumbs free the locks on the gun case and quickly racks one into the chamber.

Now she has to look for –

“ _REN_!” Danika screams.

She manages to catch the briefest pass of a shadow before she grans the gun case and blindly swings. Somehow it hits home, stunning a man dressed in all black.

Through muscle memory, she keeps a steady grip on the gun, mindful of her finger on the trigger as she whacks her hand down, gritting her teeth as she feels it collide with the man’s forearm.

He yelps in pain, clamping it down as he lunges for her, his callus hands wrapping around her neck.

With the gun in her right hand, she first her fisted left hand up into his right elbow. As he drops his arm with another yowl, Ren slams her elbow into the side of his dead, slamming him onto the top of her dresser.

As she goes to drive her knee into his sternum, he’s quicker and slams his own elbow into her chest, quickly followed by a kick to her lower stomach. The gun is knocked from her hand as Ren tumbles back, the man already upon her.

She desperately crawls to where she think she heard the gun scatter, but a rough hand grabs her ankle and Ren whirls, twisting her body to slam her other foot into the side of the man’s head.

Her foot hits home in his neck instead, but it’s all she needs. She scrambles for the gun again, hands on her ankles again. She whirls around ready to deliver a swift backhand, but the man is ready and seizes his opening, his hands around her neck once again.

Hauling her to her feet, his grip tightens, and Ren does her best in the brief seconds to prepare as he slams her into the floor, knocking the air from her lungs and sending stars shooting across her vision.

She feels his hands clench her neck as his body crawls atop her.

She tries to claw at his face, tries to get her legs up and her ankles around his neck.

Her eyes are hurting, the world turning black –

“Hey!”

Danika moves fast; fast like Ren had taught her, brutal like she’d made her learn to be.

She slams the table leg into the man’s head so hard that bone cracks and metal rings.

The man is thrown off of Ren and whirls with a howl of pain, swinging blindly in a fury of rage.

Danika easily dodges and launches forward, table leg swinging again. The reverberations of metal hitting bone sears Ren’s ears. The man roars, blindly surging for Danika.

“ _Fuck you, you son of a bitch_!” Danika thunders, ever defiant and seething with her own fury.

Ren greedily gulps down air, willing her eyes to focus and for her head to stop throbbing as she turns over on her stomach and scrambles to find the gun.

Danika dodges, but the man flicks out a switchblade, its sharp tip ripping her thigh clean open as she twists away.

She screams, losing her balance, and swings upwards as he leaps again, this time for her throat.

Metal smashes into his teeth. The man shrieks, so loudly that their ears nearly rupture in the enclosed space. Blood pours from a gash in his head.

Ren finally finds her gun, having skittered towards the remains of her bed. The man tumbles into the mirror she kept propped against the wall, glass shattering and raining. Danika scrambles back, crawling towards Ren, her hand never loosening on the table leg. It’s a bit bent by now, and her friend doesn’t bother brushing herself off as she stands next to her.

Ren aims her gun and moves to stand in front of Danika. Her friend’s jeans are stained with her blood, the gash coagulating but still smeared and leaking.

Without waiting, Ren pulls the trigger.

The sound of the gun cracks around them, sending her ears ringing and the man tumbling to the floor as he ducks. He hits the floor and scrambles like a cockroach towards the battered apartment door. Ren risks two more shots with Danika and Susy out of the apartment – their untouched home – across the hall.

Boots scraps against tile, some curse words at her, and then he’s gone.

“Hey! Get back here you _fucker_!” Danika screams, her body launching into the hallway.

“Danika, no!” Ren means to scream, but her voice is nothing more than a croak. From the man trying to strangle her.

Danika slams into the opposite door – _her_ apartment door – and rebounds off it, then scrambles into a sprint towards the stairwell.

Ren’s body screams to go after her, the gun trembling in her hands.

But her eyes continue to look around the room, and they settle upon the discarded drawer of her nightstand. At the torn pages of her journals and crumpled papers she kept inside.

In a blind panic, she drops to her knees before it and rakes through the drawer, swiping and digging.

Then from the back pocket of her memory, a sob of relief and hope breaks past her lips.

Ren hurries into her bathroom, finding it in better shape than her bedroom.

She drops to the tiled floor, knees barking as she yanks open the cabinet door.

Shoving her hand past the cleaners and soaps and air fresheners, Ren feels her hand around the bottom of the cabinet. She finds the hole, tucked towards the back, close to the corner and sticks her finger inside. Pulling open the other door to widen her view, and repositioning herself, Ren yanks the wood board up and feels around inside.

A sob of relief wrecks her body as she feels a piece of parchment and cold wax brush her fingertips.

Ren yanks her hands out, the parchment of the envelope bending in her vise grip. Her trembling fingers brush along the purple wax.

Doubling over her knees, Ren sobs, and sobs, and sobs.


	6. Chapter 5

Danika hit the stairs, a glowing white haze creeping over her vision. It blazes through every inhibition, disregards every warning bell. It tunnels her vision and chills her blood until all she can see with brutal clarity is that burglar, and Ren’s terrified, heartbroken face.

The glass door at the bottom of the stairs is already shattered. People scream outside.

Danika leaps from the top of the landing.

Her knees pop and knuckle as she clears the stairs, her socked feet shredding on the glass littering the lobby floor. Then they rip open more as she hurtles through the door and into the street, scanning –

People are gasping to the right. Others are screaming. Cars have halted, drivers and passengers all staring towards a narrow alley between the building and its neighbor.

Danika sprints across the street, following the screams, the stench of blood –

Her breath tears apart her lungs as she hurtles along the alley, dodging piles of trash. Whoever she’s chasing had only gotten a brief head start.

Where is he, where is he?

Once glimpse, even if she can’t kill him. One glimpse, just to ID him, for Ren –

Danika clears the alley, careening onto the bustling street full of fleeing people and honking cars. She leaps over their hoods, scaling one after another, every movement as smooth as one of her dance steps. _Leap, twirl, arch_ – her body doesn’t fail her. Not as she follows the man to another alley. Another and another.

Heavy breathing rents the air ahead. He’d come to another connected alley, more of a dead-end alcove between two brick buildings.

Danika hefts the table leg, wishing she’d grabbed something else instead, something heavier so she could smash this bastard’s face in.

No. His face needs to be intact enough for the police. Danika launches herself around the alley’s corner.

The man frantically looked left and right, like a cornered animal. His breathing sears her ears as he whirls around.

“End of the line you bastard.” She growls, adjusting her grip on the table leg. He has a switchblade, she remembers. She’ll have to be careful.

Here she can see him wearing all black, a simple hoodie with the hood pulled over his head. A ski mask covering the lower half of his face, and dark denim jeans tucked into black boots.

The man brings up his fist, ready to fight, and Danika can’t help but coldly chuckle.

She chucks aside the table leg, not really knowing why she’s giving him the honor of fighting just fists. But she brings her own hands up, taking the stance Ren had taught her, that Susy had taught her when they worked out together at the gym.

She might as well have been fighting a drunk.

He swings are poor, no real strength behind it, predictable. In mockery, she blocks each one of his attacks, backhanding him once as an extra taunt. He stumbles into the wall and growls in frustration.

Danika only gives a cold smile.

As Danika takes the offensive, while the man is forced to yield step after step, she knew she was going to win.

Punch, jab, duck, kick—

Nothing held back.

Still, the man fights like he means it. As if his fear of losing wasn’t death, but something else. Something that fueled him, focused him.

But he left himself wide open for the blow that would end it.

He threw a punch—the strength behind it enough to shatter someone’s ribs—its form utter perfection.

Danika lets him think the blow was going to land. And as it nears her stomach, she whirls.

One hand locks onto the man’s exposed arm. The other went around his back.

With a grunt, she flipped the man right over her shoulder. Slammed him onto the unforgiving and stained concrete.

Stone cracks; bone crunches.

He lay there for a heartbeat—stunned. Or broken, she doesn’t know.

But she is on him instantly. And this time, she grabs the metal table leg.

It had been tossed at the front of the alley, but she knew he wasn’t going to move. So she spared the few seconds of leaving him to grab it.

She approaches, realizing that the man isn’t moving because she had broken his spine. The thought and care and sympathy is casted aside as Ren’s terrified and heart-broken face flashes before her eyes.

The metal glints brightly in the moonlight as she lifts it.

“Danika!” a voice screams.

Her head whips towards the front of the alley, and finds Ren standing there, clutching to a paper envelope as if it were a piece of debris in a stormy sea. Her golden eyes near glow in the moonlight, her face already blooming with splotches of purple, lines of it reaching across her throat.

“Don’t,” her voice cracks. She takes timid steps towards her, but her eyes glow with a stunning clarity that has Danika lowering the metal table leg.

Behind her, blue and red lights flash, the blaring sound of sirens are quick to follow.

The man lets out a low laugh. “Fuck you,” he says in a thick accent.

Danika turns back to him, head angling in that way she knew meant trouble.

But faster than either Ren or Danika can move, the nameless man brings his hand up to his mouth, grimacing in pain at the movement, and—

Poison.

Danika lunges, as if she’d rip the capsule from his mouth—

The man’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “Fuck you,” he laughs at Danika.

Then—nothing.

His dark eyes go still. Unseeing.

For a long moment, she stares at the man’s body. He is only a body now. A corpse.

“Shit,” she breathes.

Ren’s gentle hand touches her arm, and Danika looks back at her. Silver lines her eyes, her trembling starting anew as she carefully guides her away from the body.

Danika drops the metal table leg as the sirens close in on them, several cars screeching to a halt in front of them. Several officers leave their cars, a couple guiding Ren and Danika over towards the sidewalk as an ambulance pulls up seconds later. The sight reminds her of the cut on her thigh. Looking down, some new streaks of blood have made their way down her leg, the wound once again clotting in the frigid breeze.

While waiting, the two of them huddle close, arms linked and Ren resting her head on Danika’s shoulder. Both of them are shaking, and it has nothing to do with the spring’s chill. Her hair flutters along the breeze, tickling her nose and folding over her shoulder.

“I have it.” Ren croaks as she peels her head from Danika’s shoulder.

“What?” she replies, looking to face her friend.

Her hand still quivering, Ren unfurls her arm and fingers to reveal the piece of paper to be an envelope.

More and more police cars arrive, officers already taping off the scene, a firetruck has somehow arrived too. Danika never even heard it come.

As Ren turns the envelope over, she mutters quietly, “I had moved it to a new spot yesterday out of paranoia. But now . . .”

The moonlight glints along the purple wax seal, setting the initials stamped at its center shimmering.

The note.

He’d been after the note.

“Your aunt –?”

Ren immediately shushes her, either because she doesn’t want to believe it, or because two EMT’s are approaching with gloved hands and duffle bags at the ready. They guide both girls over towards the back of the ambulance and have them sit on the edge of the seat. They ask each girl some questions that doesn’t register at first, but both girls keep eye contact while being worked on.

Danika remembers something about needing stitches for her feet and her thigh. Shit she forgot she only had her socks on, and those have been torn to shreds from the broken glass of the lobby door.

The remembrance has prickling pain shooting through the soles of her feet and Ren scoots herself out while the EMT’s turn their full attention to her.

They hoist her upon to a gurney and get ready to transport her to the hospital. Somehow they allow Ren to sit in the back with her; her friend clasping her hand while she sits on one of the cushioned seats.

They never let go for the whole ride, and Ren still clings to that envelope.


	7. Chapter 6

Susy barrels into the lobby of the emergency waiting room, Mani at her side, and still in her work attire. Susy herself had just come home from the gym, ready to chew Danika and Ren for having fun without her and Mani.

But then she had just pulled into her spot in the parking lot when she heard a loud crash and people screaming. She briefly caught a blue of black, a familiar smell of blood –

And then – there she was. Danika. Hurtling through the door, nothing but thin socks on her feet and running on shards of glass, table leg in her hand, pure rage twisting her face. Her pants were smeared with blood, her lips curled in a snarl she couldn’t hear.

She almost called out to her, but she knew deep down Danika wouldn’t have heard her. She almost went after Danika, but flaring headlights stopped her, and Susy turned to find Mani just pulling into the lot as well.

She’d barely rolled down her window before Susy shoved her gym bag, and then herself into Mani’s car and ordered her to follow Danika, her thumb dialing the police. Mani was flooding with questions, and Susy just ordered her where to go, trying to keep an eye on Danika’s rainbow-pastel hair, assuming the directions she would run.

Mani was about to floor it, but a flash of red had her slamming on her breaks.

And then there was Ren, her hair shining like a beacon as she sprinted past the car and in the same direction as Danika.

Mani pressed the accelerator to the floor and the two followed their seemingly crazed friends. It was something she’s never seen before, not for them.

These people, they were so out of character of her friends. She thought she was looking at complete strangers had it not been for their hair.

Danika leapt over cars, careening down streets, as fast as a man. She was like a wolf chasing her prey, and she would not lose sight of it.

Ren was behind her, Mani managing to catch up to her and trying to call out her name.

Ren’s eyes were locked on Danika, sprinting after her as fast and as graceful as a doe. Still, Susy didn’t miss the bruises on her neck, her blackening eye, and the sheer terror that haloed her golden eyes.

Suddenly Mani had to slam on the breaks since they were about to get caught in traffic, and their friends barreled forward down the street.

Mani managed to find a store parking lot where they ditched the car and pursued their friends on foot.

Only to be met with a wall of police cars and fire trucks and ambulances, the scene already roped off with yellow CAUTION tape. They’d tried telling the officers that they were friends with the two women they were leading into the back of the ambulance, but the stone-faced officer only told them that their parents had been called and that they could meet them at the hospital.

She and Mani wasted no time, and now here they are, meeting the parents of their friends – all teary-eyed and pacing about the lobby.

Ren’s mom is the first to envelope Susy in a hug, and then Mani, her father doing the same. Danika’s parents follow after, each mother having red-rimmed eyes and wearing the clothes they were no doubt relaxing at home in before that heart-dropping call.

Susy had called her own mother to let her know what had happened as best she could while Mani tried to call her parents too. When her mother asked if she should come to the ER, Susy just instructed her to stay. She wished her daughter luck with lots of love.

“How are they?” Mani asks Ren’s mom.

“They’re both doing fine, apparently. Looked worse than they appear, apparently.” Despite the facts she listed off, her voice trembles in anticipation. Mrs. Addler is a stunning woman of her mid-forties, her red sheet of copper-red hair still untouched by grey, her freckled face just beginning to show signs of her age.

From what the doctors told them, Danika had to undergo minor surgery to remove the broken glass from her feet and sew up the gash in her upper thigh. Ren is being inspected by the doctors to see if there was any damage done to her vocal cords and larynx.

Hard to believe they’re just fine since Danika’s thigh looked like it was gushing so much blood it’s a wonder how she didn’t faint. And Ren had looked so half-wild from the sheer terror of what had occurred.

“Police had gotten reports of gunfire coming from the upper floors of the building, all _after_ hearing a huge ruckus.” Danika’s mom chimes.

Susy and Mani look to her fine-boned face, worry etching lines between her brows. Her long corn-silk hair pulled into a ponytail, and her stunning turquoise eyes red from tears.

“Must’ve been when Ren tried to shoot him.”

“Do the police have him in custody?” Susy asks.

Ren’s father snorts, his arms folded. “More like they have him down at the coroner’s office.”

If he’s here, he must’ve been off duty at the time of this happening. What a way to spend the evening.

“How do you mean?” Susy asks, layered over Mani asking, “He’s dead?”

Ren’s father takes a seat in one of the chairs with a nod. “Those two women put one hell of a fight. They were told Danika was the last one with him – gave that son of a bitch a broken spine, but they’ve officially confirmed his death by poison. They’re writing it up as a suicide.”

Relief floods Susy as her shoulders droop, Mani showing a similar reaction. Whether or not the decision in listing Danika as a witness instead of a suspect was swayed by him, she doesn’t know, and really doesn’t care. Danika’s parents seems to share the same thought.

But still . . . His spine – Danika had broken his _spine_.

She knew Danika was strong, almost as strong as her, but she never would’ve imagined . . . never would’ve thought . . .

And if the man chose death more than turning himself in to the police, that’s not a good sign either. Means he didn’t want to get caught – frankly wasn’t even supposed to get caught in the first place. So amateur compared to the things she’s seen on TV, seen in movies. This was sloppy, but at least he didn’t with what he’d come for. And it would seem Ren’s parents are thinking the same thing; the gears already turning in her father’s head.

Susy looks to Ren’s mother and asks, “How long before we can see them?”

A shrug. “I don’t know. Danika’s still in surgery, and they won’t let us see Ren.” She whirls to her husband. “They can’t question her without us, can they?”

“She’s over eighteen, I’m sure they can. But if they’re smart, they’ll let us see them first.

Translation: If they knew who she is, and know how I am, they’ll let us go first before the start questioning.

“Do they know what he was after?” asks Mani.

A shake of multiple heads. “They haven’t said.” Ren’s father says. “They’re still investigating it.”

Mani pulls Susy into a seat next to Ren’s father, her self-consciousness starting to rear its head at the realization she might still smell like the gym. Then again, that could be the last thing on their minds.

She leans in and asks what exactly what had happened. In short: someone had broken into Ren’s apartment, looking for something, and attacked the two women when they arrived. Not because he was waiting, but because he was about to get caught with no way out. Ren and Danika held their own, Susy connecting the chase to an apparent fight that happened in that alley. The gash in Danika’s leg had hit an artery, the blood gushing and coagulating from the constant motion. It’d been an honest miracle she wasn’t dead from blood loss. She had several pieces of broken glass in her feet, but nothing worth worrying about. Doctors seemed more concerned stitching up her thigh.

Ren had suffered from a black eye and a minor concussion, her skin badly bruised and perhaps even a broken rib. They’re still inspecting her throat for any damage, police saying her voice sounded like gravel when she arrived.

Almost two hours pass, and the doctors are nice enough to let them eat in the hospital cafeteria. They and the moms went first while the fathers stayed in case anything changed. Even if her stomach is clenched tighter than a vice, Susy manages to eat a hefty bowl of salad and a ham sandwich. Mani opted for two bowls of soup and a couple of cupcakes at the cafeteria’s bakery.

They were all just about to head back, ready to switch when Ren’s father approached them and said they were okay to visit.

Following behind the parents, Susy and Mani interlock their pinky’s together as they approach the room, ready to see their friends.

The doctor leading them stops by a room with a wide, sliding glass door, and motions the parents inside with a friendly nod. Susy and Mani return the gesture as he closes the door behind them.

Before them, Ren and Danika have been put side by side, both dressed in hospital gowns and both being smothered with hugs and kisses by their parents.

Danika’s leg is wrapped and bandaged, any trace of blood skillfully wiped clean and disinfected. Her feet assumingly similar since they’re covered with a tarp slipper made of the same material as the gown. Her hair is loose, drooping over her shoulder, the colorful streaks unusually muted. Even her pale skin, usually flush with color, seems ashen.

Ren is no better, her hair limp and lazily braided down her back. The bruises are more prominent now, the purple blooming behind her eye adds a layer of exhaustion that has Susy reaching out for her when those golden eyes find her and Mani waiting by the door.

Ren’s parents step aside to let Susy clasp her friend’s hand, Ren pulling her in for a hug despite Susy still wearing her lime green, short-sleeved gym shirt and black leggings. Her mesh-style gym shoes squeak along the tiles. She hugs Mani next and each hug came with a deep breath. Almost as if she’s still settling herself, trying to remember that this isn’t a dream.

The two girls move over to Danika, giving long and firm hugs. Somehow, Danika still smells like her body spray of sun-washed citrus. Despite the exhaustion tugging at her face, her hazel eyes still glow with pride. A queen having conquered.

“We’re glad you’re okay,” Mani says with a timid smile.

“Glad to be okay.” She thumps her head against her pillow with a sigh. “I can’t believe this is how the night ended.”

“Hey,” Susy interjects, “at least you’re both still alive. That’s got to be so scary to come home to _that_.”

“Not that. I’m talking about Ren.”

“Ren seems fine.” Mani says, casting a glance over to their friend who is still cradled in her mother’s arms.

“Are you kidding?” Danika’s lips suddenly curve upwards. “She’s never going to go clubbing with me again.”

Lovely, wicked Danika.

Susy and Mani chuckle, tears stinging Susy’s eyes as she leans in and hugs her friend once more. As that cresting silence that has surrounding her since the moment she saw her friends sprinting like hellions after that burglar slowly descends upon the four of them.

She knew once that silence struck, nothing will be the same again.


	8. Chapter 7

The hotel’s lobby has a parlor room set with a fireplace and plush furniture made of polished oakwood and decorated with colors of red and gold. The soft carpet cushioned Ren’s feet as she crept inside in the dead hours and snuggled herself into the deep-cushioned couch before the roaring fire.

In the right corner, the grandfather clock quietly ticks, its pendulum swaying back and forth, the entire hotel silent in the predawn hours of the day.

As quiet and still as she has gone, hollowed out and drifting.

So far, no hotel employee has asked her to leave; of course, some might’ve taken one look at her and thought she was a ghost, afraid and unwilling to disturb her.

Ren was eventually released from the hospital after doctors confirmed there wasn’t any severe damage to her throat and vocal cords. Her ribs were bruised, but not broken, and her eye would heal on its own. They’ve given her some medication to ease any swelling and soreness, but she’s expected to make a full recovery. Danika however had to stay to let her feet heal, and for doctors to ensure she’ll be able to put pressure on them despite having removed all the broken glass.

Her fault. It was her fault Danika’s leg got slashed. Her fault that Danika had broken glass in her feet. 

Her fault Mani’s things have all been destroyed in their now desecrated apartment.

If she would’ve just ran the other way and called the police like a logical person, her one friend wouldn’t be in the hospital right now. And the other wouldn’t have lost her things.

Her room didn’t look nearly as bad as Ren’s – a concern she constantly tries to push aside and what it could mean – but still, that invasion of privacy that was wrecked upon her room. All of her clothes, her trinkets, her personal items. All of it so suddenly foreign now. Violated.

But god damn it, that _stupid fucking_ envelope –

The fear of losing it shrouded all common sense in her mind, and she nearly got herself and Danika killed because of it.

All for a fucking _useless_ piece of _fucking_ parchment!

Of which she has clamped in her hand. She barley let go of it when they left the hospital, just as she barely let go of Danika when the staffed kindly forced her to leave; just as she barely let go of Susy and Mani when the three of them left the hospital together.

Danika’s parents went home while Susy and Mani contacted theirs. Ren’s mother was about to let her come home, but one look at Ren’s pleading face had her and her father renting out a hotel room for all three of the girls.

Susy and Mani might’ve gone back to their building, or they might’ve gone home to their parents for the night; either way, though, all three girls seemed to share the same thought of not wanting to leave each other after such an, eventful night, to say the least.

Ren’s eyes flick down the envelope, at the purple wax that glows a deep plum in the buttery light of the fireplace. She’d debated just throwing it into the fire; ripping it to shreds for the trouble it’s caused her, for the fears it’s allowed Ren to clamp onto her, for the stress it brought upon. But it only made her clench it tighter until her knuckles were white.

She didn’t take anything with her besides the room keycard, which lays flat on the end table to her left, sitting by the arm of the couch.

She decided coming here was her best option considering; the idea of pure quiet and solidarity stirred her from the unsleeping stupor in which she’s spent the past six hours, staring at the dark circling of the hotel room she is sharing with Susy and Mani. Her parents are a door down from them.

Susy and Mani didn’t wake from their beds beside hers when Ren had exited the hotel room on soft feet, taking the grand staircase and carelessly navigating for some place quiet. She didn’t really do much despite her friends’ presence, just stared at the gold and beige wallpaper. And now, on the seventh hour . . . only then did she decide to leave. Did she remember how to move her body, how to think.

There is such a roaring within her. A roaring silence that seems to drown out all other noise. All other thought and care.

Ren runs her tongue over her dried, chapped lips. She doesn’t remember the last time she drank anything. Had a meal. Only Mani and Susy coaxing her to take sips of water.

She looks down at the envelope again, her fingers trembling. Anticipation to rip it, anger for what it’s done to her life, or because of the fear still clinging to her skin like sweat in the middle of summer.

“I thought we’d find you here.” Susy’s soft voice scrapes past her ears.

Ren turns to look over her right shoulder. Susy and Mani stand there, bundled in the blankets provided by the hotel. Their hair shares the style of a messy bun, but each was disordered in their own right. The blankets covered everything but their calves, revealing the black and red polka-dots of Susy’s pants, and the pink, glittery background of Mani’s.

Susy’s brown eyes appear golden in the firelight. Her face softened and yet, appearing so wise; an endless compassion setting her rose-pink lips curling with a small smile. The thick blanket hides the elegant frame Ren knew Susy had: long, smooth legs, an elegant sweep of hips, tapered waist and full, inviting breasts that turn her body into an hourglass. The combination mouthwatering to any man.

Though Mani huddled most of the comforter atop her shoulders, Ren could trace the outline of her friend’s figure: the curve of her shoulders, the roundness of her hips flowing down to toned legs; cute, perky breasts that guide the eye to her toned abdomen honed and trained through years of pilates and yoga. The combination of the practices have given Mani a sort of feline grace whenever she walks.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Ren’s voice has turned hoarse, each word burning as it comes out.

Susy and Mani walk around opposite sides of the couch, sandwiching Ren as they plop themselves down, each casting sections of their blankets atop her legs until they were one large mass of feathers and cotton and stuffing.

After a moment settling silence, “You really think he was after the envelope?” Susy asks, placing her hand on Ren’s left wrist.

“The way my bedroom was torn apart, I think so.”

They’re still waiting on the police report, but Ren could see her jewelry still on her dresser when she first walked in. The living room TV hadn’t been touched either, nor Mani’s console or any of their laptops.

“There’s _no way_ he didn’t see my gun. Why didn’t he take it? What could be more valuable than a firearm?” Ren shamelessly waves the envelope. “Plots and plots of land.”

“And you really think your aunt sent him?” Mani asks, her voice quiet. As if not wanting to put the idea out there, to give it life and form.

Ren shrugs her shoulders. “To me it makes sense. The events of yesterday into today are some evidence.”

Some but not enough, her father had said when she told her parents of her conspiracy. Her mother didn’t really believe it, but Ren saw the bit of doubt in her mother’s ice-blue eyes. Especially after the fact Ren told them about her aunt calling six times yesterday, leaving a voicemail.

And for her own sake, the fact that Ren had just changed the hiding spot for the envelope the night before – an irritable sort of itch probing the back of her mind – and suddenly they’re robbed, and her nightstand is practically ripped to shreds.

An obvious hiding spot for a will – or whatever it is her grandfather left her.

The whole reason why she changed it.

Mani picks at a string poking out the corner of the blanket. “I didn’t think your aunt was _that_ crazy.”

“Not crazy. Stupid.” Ren says. “If she was crazy, she would’ve hired a professional. And thank you, by the way, for not thinking _I_ was crazy.”

Mani giggles, “Well, at first I thought you were, but I mean, after having to deal with those calls, it’s not too far out of the realm of possibility.”

This manages to draw a giggle from Ren, manages to loosen her grip on the envelope. Susy’s eyes flick down towards it, her hand moving to rub Ren’s shoulder.

“What are thinking about doing?”

Ren folds her lips in. “I’m thinking about giving it to her.”

“You can’t do that.” Mani snipes.

“No. And I won’t. But I can’t take much more of this shit.” Says Ren.

“But you also don’t want her to win.” Susy finishes.

A nod of confirmation.

“I can’t, betray, my grandfather like that. I might as well be spitting on his grave.”

Susy’s fingers pinch the corner of the envelope, slipping it from Ren’s fingers. She holds it between her hands, running her thumb over the wax seal. “Your aunt either did it because she knows you have _something_ , or she’s just taking a wild hunch.”

Ren just stares into the fire, but her fingers lace into Susy’s, giving a gentle squeeze as if trying to ground herself; as if Susy were the anchor keeping her from drifting too far out into the open vastness of this thought. This conspiracy.

She avoids the urge to wipe her eyes. The light of the fire must be hiding her red-rimmed eyes if her friends hadn’t said anything. Then again, they did share their own sob session once they were in the privacy of their hotel room. And that was after Ren had broken down in her parent’s car as they drove to the hotel.

“You know, far be it from me to tell you what’s what . . .” Susy says, handing the envelope back to her. “But this does seem like a bit of a, low point. Don’t you think?”

Some spark of recognition has Ren slowly looking to her friend. Then she slowly turns to Mani, who’s seemed to have gone rather pale.

She looks back to Susy, “You think?”

Her friend holds up her hands. A stray hair falls from the bun to rest at the nape of her elegant neck. “I’m just saying. If you’re looking for a good reason to open that envelope, this would be it.”

“She has a point.” Mani chimes. Ren looks to her and finds her fiddling with the same strong, only this time it’s longer in length. “We can never go back our home.”

Ren knew she meant more than just the police tape no doubt crisscrossing in their doorway.

No, they can’t go back. Not after the violation committed. That place will no longer feel safe. During the ambulance ride, Ren barely remembers hearing Danika mention the security camera that hangs in the upper left-hand corner of the hallway . . . and the lack of its usual red, blinking light.

Ren ponders, running her thumb along the wax. “It would make sense.” She mutters to no one in particular.

The envelope almost seems to hum with life. A soft voice in her head whispering, _Do it_. _Open it. Claim it_.

“We should call Danika.” Ren exclaims, looking between her friends.

“Will she be up?” Mani asks.

“Possibly,” Susy says as she pulls out her phone. Her thumb deftly and habitually swipes on Danika’s name in their group text. “Let’s face it, none of us are going to sleep tonight.”

The three girls share a pained giggle, softened by that cresting silence.

Susy holds the phone to her ear, her freckles dotting across her chest darkened in the firelight. Danika picks up after the third ring. “Hey, did we wake you?”

From here, Ren could hear, “Are you kidding? I’ve barely shut my eyes since you guys left.”

“Listen, we have a bit of a debate going on, can you video talk?”

Danika says over the phone. “Yeah,”

She presses the video icon, and their screen shrinks towards the bottom right corner, Danika’s tired face filling the screen. Light shines down on her bed, no doubt one of those lamps set close to the hospital bed. Susy angles the phone to show the three of them on the couch.

“You guys looks snuggled and warm.” She says with a tired smile. Ren spares her own – small and timid – while Mani waves.

“How are you healing?” Susy asks.

“Pretty good. Doctor’s said I should be able to walk by tomorrow, if not by the afternoon the day after, but that’s just them being cautious.”

Ren then says, “You’d be able to walk just fine if it weren’t for me.”

“Don’t start with that shit, Ren.”

“If I hadn’t gone into the apartment, so worried about a piece of paper –”

“I made the choice to go after him when he fled. I could’ve stayed with you, but I chose to run.”

“Yeah, and I chose to for that piece of paper instead of catching up to you sooner.”

Danika snorts, her hazel eyes shining as she smiles into the camera. “So, basically we’re even now.”

Ren just shakes her head.

“So what’s this debate?” Danika asks.

Ren simply holds up the envelope. Danika’s eyes widen, her mouth popping open into a small O as her brows lift.

“Are you going to open it?” she asks quietly.

Ren just runs her fingers over the wax seal, the one thing standing between her and a potentially life-changing discovery.

“I mean, if I can say, you don’t really have too many options. And the pros seem to outweigh the cons here.” Mani chimes, resting her cheek against her knuckles.

Looking between all of her friends, Ren adjusts herself on the couch. She hisses as she limbs bark and complain as she stretches them out long before letting them rest over the edge of the couch.

Susy and Mani scoot closer, Susy angling the phone so Danika can see every detail. She thought she would just open it on her next birthday – thinking it’s a good enough reason to see what her grandfather left as his final goodbye. This one last thing he gifted to her.

But now . . .

 _Open it_ , a whispered voice seems to croon.

Ren slowly sighs with a trembling breath. And opens the envelope.


	9. PART II: The Farm: Chapter 8

_Two months later_ . . .

* * *

_Dear Ren,_

_If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change._

_The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life . . . real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belonged._

_I’ve enclosed the deed to that place . . . my pride and joy: Little Feet Farm. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life._

_This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honor the family name, my dear. Good luck._

_Love, Grandpa_

_P.S. If Lewis is still alive, say hi to the old guy for me, will ya?_

Ren has read the letter a hundred times since opening it. She still hasn’t recovered from the shock that flooded her and her friends, no doubt, when she first opened the envelope in that hotel lobby two months ago.

The hum of the bus engine vibrates through her legs, of which she stretches out after having been dangling over the edge of her seat for this drive. Looking out the window, nothing but mountains and clear skies – the occasional car driving past them from god knows where.

Breathtaking – if she were being honest. So . . . refreshing. So open and free.

To her left, a snore breaches past Mani’s pink lips, her head lolled to the side in sleep. Her hair drapes over her shoulder, the tips disappearing into the collar of her favorite graphic tee. Across the aisle, Susy and Danika are engaged in their own little war on their tablet consoles. The tip of Danika’s tongue pokes between her lips in concentration, Susy smile spreading wide with a laugh.

Ren smiles as the early afternoon sun glitters off of their hair, setting the pastels in Danika’s rippling, and coating Susy’s in a golden sheen. Beautiful, both of them. Teeming with life and happiness.

Almost habitually, Ren’s eyes drift towards Danika’s denim covered thigh, peering through it to the long scar that trails across it.

She might as well have doused herself in cold water.

Danika had been in the hospital when Ren opened her grandfather’s envelope in that hotel parlor. Her, Mani, and Susy had all been snuggled on the couch when they video-called her – Ren close to a point of breaking, contemplating on just throwing that envelope into the fire.

Thank god she didn’t. Well, thank her friends too.

She had trembled when she first read the letter. And when she dug back into the envelope, there it was.

The deed to the farm. The thing her aunt had so viciously tried to take from her that night. At least, that’s what they believe. Her parents too. But they couldn’t bring the accusation to court with no evidence. The phone calls are coincidental at best, conspiracy at worst.

Ren still remembers that sound coming from her – a mixture of as sob, a laugh, a gasp, and a hiccup.

Then tears. Just endless tears and endless shaking as she fell off the couch to her knees on the carpeted floor.

Bowed _over_ her knees, clutching the deed close to her. The tips of her silky hair puddled before her as she rocked herself in the stunned silence, her fingers white-knuckled as they dug into her back hard enough to bruise.

When she’d told her parents – unceremoniously waking them up in the early hours of the day – they were just as overjoyed and as shocked as Ren. Both of them sharing tears with her as they enveloped her into a hug.

But Ren knew, for her mother at least, her tears were from more than just the discovery. It was the same reason pride shone in her father’s eyes.

And it’s the same reason Ren is riding this bus, two months later to Stardew Valley.

To her new home.

There was nothing for her to go back too, and even if she were to find a new place, she would never feel safe again. Not in the suburbs, not in the city. And a growing fear and oily paranoia had her refusing to move back home with her parents. She would not put them in her aunt’s direct line of sight. If she’s more than willing to send someone after Ren, her own god damn niece by blood, Ren doesn’t doubt for a second that she’d send someone after her own brother – veteran police officer or not.

She did, however, agree with her parents on getting a restraining order against her aunt. Those phone calls were at least enough for that, as well as their phone records. Ren made several copies for her, her parents, and her friends. She wouldn’t risk her aunt trying to contact them, if she hadn’t already. Danika nor Susy had said anything in the past, and Ren was afraid of scaring them, so she didn’t persist. Mani just blocked her on social media no questions asked.

By now they all might’ve blocked her aunt, just for peace of mind for all of them.

And now with moving to Stardew Valley, the remoteness it pertains – if the scenery wasn’t enough – Ren feels like she’s taken her first clear breath since that horror-filled night. Her mind feels less fogged already, her breathing even.

Ren knew in her heart without a second thought of where she would go. Mani had agreed too, though it took some convincing of her parents to let her travel here. Ren didn’t ask for the details – but apparently it took a lot of convincing, a lot of reminders that they’re all in their early twenties and allowed to make their own decisions, and a promise that she would do her best to call and visit home.

After that, it was a long conversation with Mani’s mother about keeping her safe. Thankfully Mani’s father interjected his wife after about thirty minutes, and assured Mani’s mother that the girls know what they’re doing. A nod in Ren’s direction had her silently promising to keep Mani up on her lessons in self-defense.

Though honestly, Ren didn’t think they would ever need it. Not in a place like Stardew Valley.

She would be ever grateful to Mani for moving out with her, as she would be to Susy and Danika for agreeing to come along and help them settle in. Both were able to take some PTO from work to help in the process. But that means she only has a month with them before they move back all those miles away.

They went over all of this one night while at Susy and Danika’s apartment. Through Ren’s attempts of discounting the fear of what was her old home just across the hall – at the time it had been boarded up, still with the caution tape across the doorway – the women spent most of the evening into the night discussing their future plans.

Ren knew Susy and Danika couldn’t just up and leave, they have their lives back in city. Having them here to help her settle is enough. And with Mani losing some of her things in vandalization, Ren was more than happy to let her stay with her. Mani had been talking about moving anyway, and even if it wasn’t her initial choice, for her, it might be a step in the right direction. 

Although, Ren didn’t know what to expect when they got to the farm, and she made such notions clear. Her memories of the farm are scarce at best through the years of aging; each time they would get tucked further and further into the back pockets of her mind. Only able to pull certain distinctions of her time there as a kid.

Each assured her they would work it out, but that didn’t stop Ren from purchasing three cots from their local camping store, along with some fresh sleeping bags. Despite them being in the spring, Ren knew the nightly chill has the potential to awaken a person in the middle of the night.

They dressed the best they could to prepare; Danika wearing a black V-neck shirt under a green and blue flannel that brings out the matching color in her hazel eyes. Her rainbow-pastel hair pulled into a ponytail, her fitted denim jeans drifting into her favorite pair of black converse.

Susy wears a tee shirt sporting her favorite hockey team, hidden beneath her pewter-grey fleece. Her golden-brown hair coiled perfectly about her head, her black leggings contrast with her grey-and-mint green gym shoes. Years of use has left the shoes dulled compared to when she first bought them.

Mani’s navy-blue fleece sits in her lap, the sunlight reflecting off of the print of her tee. Within the band of skin between the ankle of her black leggings and her sneakers, Ren smiles as she sees the neon pink and green bands of her friend’s alternating socks. The stretched print of a cloud peeks just above the tongue of the shoe.

Ren adjusts her jean jacket as she peers out the window, crossing her ankles with her brown combat boots. She sits up straighter when she beholds a sign approaching.

“Guys,” she says, nudging Mani from her nap. Each turn their attention to where she points with her purple painted nail. “Look, there it is!”

The green sign reaches the window of the bus as the driver continues on, but Ren can read it: STARDEW VALLEY, 0.5 mi.

The white arrow ushers them on, the bus seeming to pick up speed. Since they are one of few passengers on the bus, Ren felt a little better about her luggage taking up most of the storage space in the bus’s outer compartment. Her parents spared no expense when buying her some new clothes and some new home furnishings, just in case. What they have now is what they could carry. The rest of her new things are on a truck heading their way as they speak, though she doesn’t know when it’ll arrive.

Susy squeals and grips Danika’s arm in excitement, Danika following the sign until it’s a green dot behind them. She looks to Ren, “You excited?”

“Nervous,” Ren says with a shrug. She fiddles with the end of her hair, a habit she started shortly after the break in. “but excited. And I want to thank you guys again for helping me settle in.”

“No problem!” says Danika.

“Anytime!” Mani adds.

“Besides, we’ve all been meaning to get away from the city and stuff. It’ll be nice to sit down in a nice quiet town. I’m so excited!”

The bus lurches on, as if a newfound energy pushed on its tires, bringing them closer to her new home.

* * *

Another half a mile has the bus pulling to a stop to an opening of wooden fencing, bringing them just before a tunnel. The driver parks the bus and exists with a simple, “Here we are.”

There is a strip of sidewalk before it quickly bleeds into dirt and grass patches, a makeshift dirt trail, and trees – tall, beautiful trees brimming with fluffy boughs teeming with leaves that dangle like jewels — tiny droplets of ruby, pearl, topaz, amethyst, emerald, and garnet; and a carpet of such riches coated the ground around them.

The four of them gather the things they carried onto the bus, meeting the driver outside as he opened the doors to the storage compartments on the outside. One by one he starts to unload their luggage, each of their individual tags aid in separating each other’s suitcases. Ren spares the driver a kind nod, palming a twenty-dollar bill in his hand for his work.

The man takes off his aged baseball cap to reveal a balding head despite his well-trimmed beard and tips it with a smile. “Thank you, madame.”

“Thank _you_ for the drive. We really appreciate it.”

“All part of the job.” He says with a chuckle.

As the girls organize their luggage, Ren biting her lip at how many bags are hers alone in the growing expanse, there’s the sound of perky footsteps that approach them.

They look up and find a pretty young woman who could pass for Ren’s sister. Her hair is more gold in its orange sheen compared to Ren’s fiery red, her eyes as stunningly opaque as emeralds. She wears a butterscotch colored long-sleeve beneath a fur-lined vest, tucked into green pants and brown work boots; well-worn with scuffs of dirt and scratches and faded patches.

Pretty for a woman who looks to be in her early thirties. She offers a smile and a friendly wave. “Hi! You must be Ren.” She extends out her hand, Ren taking it with a warm smile. “I’m Robin, the local carpenter.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she turns and gestures to her group. “These are my friends. They’re here to help me settle in. That’s Danika, Susy, and that’s Mani. She’ll actually be moving in with me.”

Each of her friends give a gesture of greeting: a jerk of the chin from Danika, a timid wave from Susy, and a peace sign from Mani.

Robin nods and smiles to each of them. “Nice to meet you all.” She turns back to Ren. “Mayor Lewis sent me here to fetch you to show you the way to your new home. He’s there right now, tidying things up for your arrival.” Her eyes drop to their bags and her brows lift. “I see you’re more than ready to move in.”

Ren gives a nervous laugh. “My parents wanted to make sure I was prepared. I do also have a truck coming in a couple of days with some furnishings.”

“No problem,” Robin chuckles. “The farm’s right over here, if you’ll follow me.”

The excitement Ren had purposely kept suppressed suddenly grows at Robin’s first impression. There’s a distinct motherly sense to her that reminds Ren of warm conversations by a fire; her voice soft but merry and free of judgement. And she seems genuinely excited at their visit.

Without a word, she reaches out and takes two of the duffle bags and grabs the handle of two suitcases, one in each hand and begins to walk.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. We can move it ourselves.” Ren begins to protest.

Robin glances over her shoulder and says with a smile. “Don’t worry about it; besides, you girls look like you could use the help.”

As Ren looks back to her friends gathering their things, she bites her lip at Robin’s point. Most of these bags just have clothes alone, next to some bathroom condiments. The rotating wheels will make it easier, but it’s still a lot to push when thinking about the terrain they might have to travel.

Her eyes find Mani’s and the group share a laugh at how silly they look with so many bags on their backs and shoulders, _then_ including the suitcases they have to wheel.

They’ll have to take what they can get. At least until they’ve unpacked.

Ren quickly gathers her things and leads the group behind Robin.

Thankfully the dirt road remained flat and in a singular direction. Ren would’ve been nervous if the path was winding and bumpy. It was probably about a five-minute walk from the bus stop to the farm.

Ren could hear Susy squealing excitedly as the border of wooden fencing appears on the horizon, tips of trees sprouting from beyond. Her own heart starts to bubble as they draw closer.

But then they pass the fencing, and opening wide before her is a field of endless green.

“This is Little Feet Farm,” Robins says with an enthusiastic smile. She continues another two steps before settling their bags down.

Ren and her friends nearly drop all of their things at the overgrown sight before them.

Stones and logs lay scattered like sprinkles across the dirt expanse. Trees gathered towards the furthest area of the farm, creating a small forest. Patches of grass sprout here and there, nearly concealing the rippling surface of a pond a few yards from the main house.

Robin looks to them, still smiling, even if her eyebrows have bunched in concern. “What’s the matter?”

Ren opens her mouth, then clamps her lips shut. “I just – I just expected my grandfather to, upkeep it. This is a bit of a shock.”

Robin cringes but places a hand on her shoulder. “Sure, it’s a bit overgrown, but there’s some good soil underneath that mess! With a little dedication, you’ll have it cleaned up in no time.”

“Greaaaaaat,” Mani drawls. Danika and Susy shoot her a glare.

Robin giggles to herself as she turns them towards the house. “. . . And here we are, your new home.”

The house itself seemed to be the only thing kept clean and untouched. Its peak condition made Ren think that someone placed a large tarp over it all these years. The black roof and white exterior gave the home a charming and almost cozy ambiance. Brick steps lead up to the front porch, the mahogany wood door – its center replaced with ornately carved glass – is flanked by thin windows made from the same glass. Four large, black shuddered windows line up along the front of the house, their glass veiled by gossamer curtains, obscuring their peek inside. A small room juts out from the left side of the house – likely a sunroom of some kind with windows bordering its every wall, and a vacant flower bed follows the house’s perimeter. 

Ren attempts to dig through her mind as she scans the house from top to bottom, trying to see what might’ve changed and what might’ve stayed. She remembers those few rocking chairs on the front porch, the porch swing still sits furthest to the right; the two ceiling fans are still there, their buttery glow still prominent in Ren’s mind from many summers spent gazing out across the farm’s expanse.

Danika lets out a low whistle. “Not bad.”

Susy’s smile widens. “It’s really charming!”

The front door opens and out steps a man in his late seventies. He almost reminds Ren of her grandfather with his brown flat cap matching his suspenders and pants. They hold onto his green buttoned shirt and yellow tie, the attire seemingly fit for a man his age. Pulled off _only_ by a man his age.

“Ah, the new farmer! Welcome, Ren! I’m Lewis, Mayor of Pelican Town.”

He holds out his hand and Ren takes it. “Nice to see you again Mr. Lewis. I see time has been good to you.”

His smile turns soft as he folds his hands in front of him. “I remember you were up to my knees the last time I saw you.”

“You remember me?”

“Your grandfather was known throughout the town! Believe me, we always knew when he was coming to visit. You know, everyone’s been asking about you.”

Ren’s eyebrows furrow. “Everyone was expecting me?”

Her stomach churns at the thought. The idea of everyone’s eyes staring at her, judging her, monitoring her. But she can understand; she expected this when she made this decision. No sense in cowering about it.

Mayor Lewis chuckles. “It’s not every day that someone new moves in. It’s quite a big deal!”

A thought sparks at the front of her mind. “My grandfather wanted to tell you, he says hi.”

A muscle flickers in Lewis’ jaw and his smile turns solemn. “I appreciate that. And if I may say, he did tell me one day that should you ever come here as an adult, he would likely be gone. I thought it was just a bunch of nonsense. I didn’t quite understand it at the time.”

“He told you I would be here?”

A small nod. “He told me long ago he would leave the farm to you. And no one else. I’ve had callers from every corner of your family asking about the state of the land, and I refused to tell them anything. The property was already yours as far as I was concerned. But they didn’t need to know that until you formally came forward.”

He endured that for her. For her grandfather. She could only imagine how many times her aunt might’ve called here, but she just never gave it a thought. If she couldn’t get through to her, might as well call at the direct source. His calls might’ve been worse off than her own. The number of times her aunt might’ve threatened him with lawyers and contracts and warrants . . .

“Thank you,” is all she can think to say. All she can offer with experience at the hands of her aunt’s ruthlessness.

Mayor Lewis simply taps her on the shoulder and gestures towards the house. “So . . . you’re moving into your grandfather’s old house. It’s a good house . . . very ‘rustic’.”

Robin chuckles. “Rustic? That’s one wat to put it . . . ‘Crusty’ might be a little more apt, though.”

Lewis whacks at Robin’s arm, the carpenter giggling to herself. “Rude, Robin! Don’t listen to her, Ren. She’s just trying to make you dissatisfied so that you buy one of her house upgrades.”

Robin scoffs, folding her arms and tapping her foot with a harrumph. Ren chuckles at the woman’s pout. As she looks around the property again, Mani already scooting herself up the steps with her bags, Ren’s mouth gapes slightly when she sees another building further down the linear dirt trail.

“Hey,” she mumbles, drifting a lazy finger towards the structure. “Are those . . .?”

Her friends follow her gaze, Robin and Lewis too. The mayor’s smile widens as he nods and says, “Yes.”

“No way!” Ren breathes. She drops her bags, unceremoniously tossing them onto the porch before she takes off in a speed walk towards the structures.

“Ren?” Susy calls from behind. All of her friend’s hurrying footsteps following behind after the dropping of their own bags.

Ren jogs further up the dirt path until the next house comes into view.

She pauses at its front, marveling at the polish of the house. Her friend’s join her, and Mani lets out a small slew of swears.

“Your grandfather had multiple houses?” Danika asks as she sidles up to Ren’s side.

She nods, her smile wide with delight and surprise. “I can’t believe I forgot about that! Of course, it would make sense with all of us visiting him!” She chuckles as she smacks her palm against her forehead. “I just, I always stayed at the main house, so I just never gave it another thought as a kid, even when I knew there were other houses on the property.”

This house had the same, black-tiled roof, only its exterior was a lovely blue-grey; the white wood of the porch matched the gutters and the trim of the windows set with navy blue shutters. One large window occupied the left side while two smaller ones took up the right, spaced out enough to indicate two separate rooms.

“Look! Over there!” Susy points.

Across the way, another house sit, only this time, this house has a wooden exterior design, its roof colored in ashen grey with a front porch and green shutters around the windows. The design always reminded Ren of summer camp cabins.

“This place is like its own little neighborhood.” Danika chuckles with a broad smile.

“There’s a reason we came here every summer for family parties and reunions.” Ren says, her own teeth gleaming as her smile widens with each observation of the property, each memory that each house brings forth from the repertoire of her mind.

“It’s great accommodations for your group! One house for each of you.” She chimes. 

A little further down the hill, the last house stands with a muted mint green color, the black roof helping to contrast with the white and beige stone occupying the front most wall of the house, its round window allowing a peak into the living room. The front door tucked into its side, shadowed underneath the porch wrapping around the front to the right.

“What’s that one?” Mani asks as she points to a dilapidated glass building. It’s nothing more than piles of glass, dirt and brick and a metal exoskeleton.

“That used to be the greenhouse.” Ren says, unable to hide the pinch of sadness in her tone. “I used to love it in there. But the one day a storm tore it to pieces. He never really got around to repairing it.”

“Are there any more buildings on this property?” Susy asks as she approaches the path leading up to the blue house.

“I think there might’ve been, but I can’t remember.”

“There were a few more buildings that your grandfather request we demolish.”

Ren whirls to Lewis. “Any reason why?”

The mayor shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t really ask; I didn’t think much of it. I figured most of the grandkids were grown and out of the house by then and he wanted to make more room on the farm.”

Ren nods, seeing the reasoning. She scratches at an ich just at the top of her spine.

Mayor Lewis guides them back towards the main house. “Anyway, you must be tried from the long journey. You should get some rest, but please stop by the saloon in town. Tomorrow you ought to explore the town a bit and introduce yourself. The townspeople would appreciate that.”

“That does sound like fun.” Susy chirps.

“Might as well get to know where things are.” Ren agrees, mounting the steps towards the front door. _Her_ front door.

He starts to leave but suddenly stops and motions Ren over. She follows him towards the large wooden box she first noticed when they entered the property.

“Oh, I almost forgot. If you have anything to sell, just place it in this box here. I’ll come by during the night to collect it. And I’ve gotten word of the truck with your things will be arriving in a couple of days.” He hands Ren the keys to the house. “Well . . . good luck!”

They spare another shake of hands and with a nod, Mayor Lewis takes his leave. Robin comes and gives her own handshake and even a hug before leaving Ren and her group to the house and open property.

When she turns to her friends, she finds Danika and Mani leaning on the railing of the porch, Susy having made herself comfortable on the porch swing. Ren makes her way back up the steps and wraps Danika in a hug just for the hell of it. She goes down the line until she’s sitting next to Susy on the swing.

“Are we ready?” she asks, casting her gaze about.

The three of them look to one another before looking to Ren with a nod. As she gets up to unlock the door, Mani feverishly claps her hands, beginning to bounce on her toes.

The door opens and Ren is immediately greeted with sunlight. The many windows along the walls bathe the space in an endless glitter, as if one ounce of darkness in the place is abhorrent.

The entire room is open and spacious until further in towards the back do the rooms divert into a bathroom, a bedroom, a room that looks like it could be an office before the wall creating the hallway obscures their view. To her left is the kitchen that blends into a family room on the right through dark wood floors.

There aren’t many furnishings, but enough to keep them afloat until her truck arrives. The walls are a lovely pale mauve, bringing to attention the white deep-cushioned couch set before a reclaimed wood coffee table and a carved oak console set to hold a television. A dining room with a long, cherrywood table big enough for ten people with matching, high-backed chairs sits in the back right corner. Across the way, is a sitting room with a white stone fireplace flanked by bookshelves built into the wall, and lots of comfortable, elegant, but worn furniture surrounding another low-lying coffee table.

“Wow,” Susy breathes.

Danika lets out a low whistle as the women haul in their luggage, dumping it to the left of the door. Mani is silent, but her mouth is agape.

Ren immediately walks over into the kitchen, decorated with pale grey cabinets, chrome appliances, and white countertops. All of it impeccably clean, soft, and welcoming. An island sits in the middle, three black wood stools lining the front. Tucked towards the front by the windows is a breakfast nook, the cushions matching the color of the cabinets.

Ren traces her fingers along the countertop, her nose catching the familiar smell of cookies in the oven, stir-fried vegetables, and Thanksgiving ham. A wall divides the kitchen and the sitting room, Ren stepping through the threshold into the more elegantly designed space.

In the corner of her vision, she can see Mani and Susy turn into the hallway, Danika stepping around the dining room table. “Your grandfather spared no expense,” she says with a smile.

“I guess so.” Ren mumbles, casting her gaze towards the ceiling.

“Do you not recognize some of these things?”

“Actually, most of it seems pretty new to me. I hadn’t been here since I was a kid.” She shrugs her shoulders. “He must’ve remodeled to kind of, keep up with the times.”

“Why do you have that grimace?” Danika asks as she approaches, folding her arms.

“Makes me wonder why he did it.”

“Like you said to keep the place updated.”

Ren cringes. “To sell it?”

“Sell it to _you_.” Danika says with a wicked grin. “I mean, this style _really_ suits you. It’s almost perfect.”

Indeed, the place has a sense of formality to it, yet he had managed to make it seem cozy. Even the formal furniture, while beautiful, is designed for comfort and lounging, for long conversations over good food.

As Mani and Susy emerge from the hallway, Ren meets them in the middle of the room and says, “You know, with the other houses on the property, you guys don’t have to stay here.”

When they look to her with puzzled expressions, Ren folds her bottom lip. She’d want them with her, more than ever, when settling into this place, of course. But at the same time, she assumed walking in they would be cramped and dusty, but with those houses still on the property, it won’t feel as claustrophobic.

Ren ignores the warmth in her cheeks as she clarifies. “We don’t have to be so, crowded together. We could each take a house, make some room.”

Her friends share a shrug at the thought, but Ren could see the hesitation lining their eyes.

Mani is the one to speak up, “I think we’re all still a little, unnerved, about what happened a couple months ago.

Ren suppresses the relief that nearly has her shoulders sagging. Especially when dread is an oily worm in her stomach.

The four of them only went back to Danika and Susy’s apartment to pack some of their things. After the break in, they’ve mostly been sleeping over between Ren and Mani’s parents’ homes. None of them had the courage to go back to that building unless absolutely necessary; only heightened when Ren discovered she had the deed to her grandfather’s farm.

It’s almost as if they were guarding one another, while also providing the company for those long nights when sleep would evade them – between one, or all four of them – due to the underlying fear of the shadows taking a humanoid form.

“We’ll stay here for now. And if we feel comfortable enough, we’ll check out the rest of the houses.” Susy says, motioning towards the living room where they’d likely set up.

“Agreed.” Ren sighs.

She claps her hands together and says brightly, “Alrighty, let’s unpack.”


End file.
